Stars Don't Sleep
by words-with-dragons
Summary: A series of drabbles and oneshots, based off tumblr requests and random inspirations, about the relationship between Shiro and Allura. (originally posted on tumblr under shiroallura)
1. A Mutual Understanding

**Summary:** 5+1: five times the team almost discovered Shiro and Allura, and one time they did.

 **Rating:** High T

* * *

A Mutual Understanding

(-1).

The first time Shiro kissed Allura, no one else was around. It was late, and they had stayed up talking, about battle plans and war tactics, the planets they had freed, the other paladins and Coran's wacky antics, and anything else that came to mind. Anything but their relationship―or, therefore lack of one.

They were friends, of course. Very good friends, when Shiro thought about it (which was far too often). Allura was one the person he felt he didn't have to wear a mask around when he was feeling down or weak or inadequate. The other paladins were younger than him, and even beyond being the leader of Voltron, they looked to him for hope and guidance. He couldn't let them down. Allura was different. Sure, she depended on him―but she couldn't be let down. Not really. She understood the pressures of leadership better than anyone, that both of them were making up plans as they went along.

She also understood that there were much more important things to think about then relationships, with everything else going on. Saving the galaxy could take years, maybe even a lifetime, and the task may still not be complete. All of their energy had to be focussed on defeating Zarkon and taking care of their team. There wasn't room for anything else. There shouldn't have been anyway.

Yet here he was, his gaze dropping routinely to Allura's lips as she spoke, watching the way they formed words. Shiro didn't stop staring even when her mouth stopped moving.

"Shiro?"

He quickly averted his eyes, forcing them back up to her eyes. (Not that it was hard, because they were beautiful. Everything about Allura was beautiful.) "Sorry, princess. What were you saying?"

"I was saying," Allura said, a frown tugging at her lips even if she sounded rather amused, "that we should probably at least try to get some sleep tonight.

Shiro let out a small sigh. "You're probably right."

They rose from the table at the same time, and Shiro was glad that for once he wasn't in his armour. It was easier to sleep in comfier clothes―a gray t-shirt and loose black pants―even if it was never all that easy to sleep. He glanced at the clock, and saw that it was three ticks past one in the morning. Every time he and Allura stayed up together, it seemed to get later and later.

Not that he minded. He loved spending time with her, especially when it was just the two of them.

"I'm afraid I keep you up far too late," she said, catching where his eyes had gone. They had quickly learned that Alteans didn't need as much sleep as humans (or that she and Coran were still being affected by their 10,000 year long sleep).

"No, no," he said quickly, stifling a yawn as they left the table. "I…I really appreciate this. It makes me feel less alone, and I like getting to know you better. I like spending time with you. I'd pull an all-nighter if I thought I could afford to."

Allura looked at him with a small smile, almost shy. The pink markings around her eyes, resting above her cheeks, seemed to turn a little red. Was that…her blushing, he wondered. "Shiro," she said softly, so unlike her usual confidence, yet he found it just as compelling, taking a step towards her. She wouldn't look him in the face. "What is courtship like on your planet?"

His jaw went slack. "Oh." He tried to keep his voice neutral. "Well, humans go on dates. Like, they'll talk to each other and eat food. Or watch something entertaining, or walk around. And people do that for years, sometimes, they may even live together before they get married." He swallowed hard. "What―what's it like in Altean culture?"

"It's shorter. An Altean usually has multiple suitors, and relationships are often on the shorter side, since Alteans live such long lives. But those who do get married are committed to each other forever. Alteans are compassionate, loving beings in nature. Because of our diplomatic beliefs and shapeshifting, interspecies relationships is―was fairly common."

She was so close, so very close he could see the stars in her eyes, as he tentatively reached for her hand. "It was?" Shiro whispered. Her fingers, warm and soft, curl into his, skin against skin. Their noses were nearly touching.

"It is," she confirmed, and then pressed her mouth to his. Displays of love and affection were another thing their cultures had in common, obviously.

Shiro tugged her closer to him by their linked hands, his free one going up to the back of her head. Her mouth was warm and soft, her lips parting slightly to deepen it. He felt warmth flood him, as her hands went up to the crook of his elbow, lightly gripping his arms as he let go of her hand and wound that arm around her slim waist, pulling her into his arms.

Whatever they had been dancing around was finally gone, and so was the space between them.

Allura drew away only slightly, her cheek still brushing his as their eyes met, and a silent understanding passed between them: for now, no one should know.

1.

Sparring was one of Shiro's favourite past-times. The relieving sting of his knuckles against a punching bag, seeing how he could use his galra arm for good, not bad, and making sure he was staying in shape, were all reasons he loved it. Sparring with Allura was even better. For one, she presented a real challenge, in her skill and superhuman strength. For another, he really didn't care who won as long as she was on top or under him at the end of it.

In the two weeks since their kiss, they hadn't decided to see how compatible human and Altean reproductive systems were with each other, but that didn't stop him from occasionally thinking about it. (Not that it had stopped him before, no matter how hard he had tried.)

Especially when she was on top of him, pinning him to the ground. A few strands of hair had fallen out of her bun, as she let out a huff. "It appears that I have won again." She gave him a triumphant smile.

"Looks like it princess," he said with a light chuckle. His wrist strained against her hand for a moment, and she let him go. He reached up and tucked her loose hair behind her ears, before letting his hand gently caress the cheek. "What was the deal, again?" he feigned forgetfulness, letting his sillier side shine through.

Allura rewarded him with an adorable giggle. "The loser was supposed to give the winner a kiss."

"So it's really win-win no matter what?" he said with a broad smile, before leaning up and kissing her. Their mouths met halfway. Their kisses had usually been chaste, but Allura was kissing him more firmly, and he could feel her lips, a tiny poke of her tongue, coaxing him to part his lips.

And he was just about to, when he heard footsteps. Spending a year in a Galra prison had sharpened his senses, and Shiro hastily broke the kiss. "Someone's coming," he breathed.

Allura quickly eased off of him, offering a hand to help him up, and he made sure his hand didn't linger in hers, as Keith came into the training room, bayard in hand. "Oh, um. Hey," the red paladin greeted, raising his brows in surprise. Shiro supposed that he and Allura never really spent that much time together with the rest of the team around, so finding them together was an oddity. He hoped he wasn't blushing.

"We were just finishing up," Allura announced, her voice smooth, as if truly nothing was out of the ordinary. "The training centre is all yours."

Keith relaxed. "Thanks. I wanted to get some training in before Lance came, he's so―"

"KEITH! TOO CHICKEN TO SPAR WITH ME, HMM?"

Shiro had to hide a smile as Lance waltzed in with an reluctant looking Pidge and Hunk in tow, and Keith face-palmed.

"We'll leave you to it." Shiro winked at him, eyes gleaming with amusement.

He and Allura broke out into giggles as soon as they had left the training centre, and Shiro slipped his hand into hers. One of the things he loved most about her was that she never cared which hand was holding, his flesh or metal one. She accepted them both equally, even though she had every reason to hate the latter, crafted by the evil Galra empire that had destroyed her people and family.

Allura squeezed his fingers. "It is a good thing that you realized Keith was coming," she remarked, a pale pink colouring her cheeks.

"Yeah." Shiro studied her for a moment. "Although, out of them all, it wouldn't have hurt too much that he knew. The worst would've been Lance."

"Or Coran," Allura added. "You wouldn't be able to believe the way he used to tease me when I was a child. Him and my mother were good friends, ooh, he would poke fun at me mercilessly. Especially once I got to marrying age." Shiro nearly frowned, and she nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. "Mostly because I never had a suitor that I could seriously consider," she assured him.

Shiro tried not to look relieved, and looked down at their hands as she laced their fingers together. "Now, let's find some secluded corner of the castle, before someone comes looking for us," she said, and he was happy to follow her lead.

2.

Now, it wasn't that they didn't want the other paladins and Coran to know. It was just nice having something that entirely belonged to them, and Shiro was used to keeping things out of his mind whenever the team practiced their mind melding―it had always been memories of his time in prison, horrors he didn't want them to know, and he was glad to say he had much happier memories to deal with.

They just didn't want them to know right now, to not have to endure the teasing that would follow. And once Lance knew Shiro had a girlfriend, he would insist on having one (even if Keith was right there; oblivious idiots, the both of them). It might even make the team lose focus, which would be something Shiro would have to iron out if it happened. There was also something exciting about being in a secret relationship. An added rush to their stolen touches and glances.

Of course, they'd tell the other paladins and Coran. Eventually.

For now, they were happy keeping their relationship a secret.

Shiro just wished he had made a better game plan for sneaking around the castle when Pidge was quite the night owl herself. Holding Allura's hand as they walked down the dark castle hallways, faintly illuminated the moonlight, they had paused a few times, getting distracted by each other. Still, he hadn't accounted for Pidge being on a balcony that was in their only way to everyone's sleeping quarters.

Shiro chanced a glance. Pidge had her headphones on, a glowing box at her feet with antennae sticking up while she jotted things down in a note pad. Searching for alien signals? For any sign of her father and brother? Part of Shiro wanted to reprimand her for not getting a good nights sleep, but he also couldn't help but be a little curious, and concerned.

He was on the fence of whether to stop, or to keep going and hope she wouldn't notice them, when Pidge's head poked around the corner. "What are you two doing up?" she asked, and then, perceptive as always, "Why are you holding hands?"

Shiro quickly let go of Allura, and crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring the heat rising to his cheeks. "I could be asking you the same thing."

Pidge threw him a dry stare. "I'm not holding anybody's hand."

Shiro raised an eyebrow. "You know what I meant. What are you doing up?"

"Scanning the system for Galra signals." Pidge quickly stifled a yawn. "I know the castle does it, but it doesn't pick up on spoken transmissions―at least, not clearly, and not in anything other than Altean."

Allura smiled a little guilty. "I'm sure I can add another language of your human tongue, Pidge," she offered. She looked to Shiro as he took a seat next to Pidge, giving him a curious look. Shiro patted the space beside him expectantly.

"We'll take it from here Pidge," Shiro told her. "You get some rest. We'll wake you if there's anything new."

Pidge nodded sleepily, and then leaned into his side. Shiro opened his arm and curled it around the young girl. "Thanks, Shiro," she said drowsily. "An' Allura…"

Allura was struck by how much they looked like a father and daughter, in many ways. Shiro was truly like a father to the rest of the team in many ways. "My father would have liked you a great deal," she said quietly, not wanting to wake the green paladin.

Shiro gave her a tiny smile. "I hope so." He wrapped his other arm around the princess's waist. "Otherwise we would have had to sneak around the castle even more."

Allura giggled softly, and then her smile faded. "You really do not mind keeping us a secret?" she checked.

He shook his head, pulling her closer. "No." He smiled as he leaned in for a kiss. "I like having you all to myself."

3.

Allura knew deep down that Shiro should have left once they had finished catching their breath. He should have dragged himself out of her bed, found his clothes from the floor and tugged them back on, giving her one last kiss before heading out the door to give her ample time to do the same hours later, in the morning. Instead, he had properly stayed the night, burrowing in the warmth of her sheets and her body, and they came to in the morning with their legs tangled together, and his hands stroking her hair, caressing the smooth skin of her bare back.

"I should probably go," Shiro whispered, and she could hear the reluctance in his voice.

"Nooo," she half-whined, nuzzling her face into his shoulder, the cool metal of his arm a few inches away from her chin. "Stay, just a few ticks longer."

"The others will be up soon―"

"Shiro."

"Allura."

" _Takashi_." She knew the simple utterance of his birth name, not his nickname (told to her in one of their long, nightly talks), had him beat as he pulled her closer, pressing kisses to her temple. She trailed a hand down his strong back, her fingers lingering on risen trails of marred skin: the various scars that covered his body. Despite being a reminder of the Galra's physical attempt of ruining him, she found them beautiful, just like the rest of him.

His hands ran down from the slope of her waist and hips to her thighs, one of them draped over his leg. It turned out that Alteans and humans reproductive systems were extremely compatible. "Just a little longer," he murmured, and she nodded, before leaning in to kiss him, tasting the dryness of the morning on his mouth.

She slowly pulled away, burying her face in his neck, letting her relax into the warmth surrounding her. She had hardly ever felt so peaceful. In fact, she nearly fell asleep again, when what felt like only minutes there, was a knock at the door.

"Princess Allura?" Coran's voice was bright and cheery, and she could picture him smoothing down his bushy mustache on the other side of the door. Shiro nearly fell out of her bed. "Are you ready? You wanted me to run a diagnostics test of the castle's overnight defences and the results are here―surprisingly in some funny human language I suppose and―"

"I'll be there in just a tick Coran!" she called, trying not to sound panicked. She threw off the covers and reached for her unworn nightgown hanging on her closet doorknob, quickly pulling it on. Shiro was beside her in an instant, helping her along the way, before pulling on his pants. "Hide!" she hissed at him.

"Where?"

"Allura, are you alright?" Coran asked.

She forced herself to sound cheery. "Fine! Just―" Stars above, she had never expected to be a grown woman hiding the fact she had a boy in her room from her family's favourite royal advisor. "Just give me a few more ticks, I'll―"

She turned around to Shiro, her face set, and promptly shoved him into the closet. To his credit, he only let out a soft oomph noise of surprise when she slammed the door in his face, leaning heavily against the wardrobe as Coran slowly opened the door. "Good morning Coran!" she chirped.

He gave her an strange stare. "Allura, is everything okay?"

"Never better―" Her voice nearly pitched as she noticed Shiro's shirt lying near her bed, her sheets lying haphazardly across the mattress. "I did have a bit of a restless sleep, though." She forced a chuckle, walking over to her bed and hastily smoothing down the covers, using her foot to push Shiro's shirt underneath her bed. Before Coran could comment, she said, very brightly, "So, the diagnostics?"

Coran's suspicion was seemingly gone as he perked up, puffing out his chest importantly. "Ah, of course." He whipped out some papers from his pocket. "These came out of Pidge's odd human contraption, she calls it a printer, anyway―"

Allura followed the chattering man out of her room, glancing back at Shiro who was peeking out from behind the wardrobe door. She pointed at the bed, indicating his shirt, and he gave her a thumbs up, before she shut her door and turned her attention back to Coran, who was oblivious as ever. She focussed on what he was saying as much as she could, and let out a sigh of relief once he was gone.

 _Whew._ That had been close.

4.

It turned out humans were a very diverse bunch, and unlike Altea, had loads of different cultures within the tiny planet. Shiro was something called Japanese, although he had been born and raised in a different country than his parents ("Countries?" she had asked, and he had gone into an explanation that both made a great deal of sense, and was also very overwhelming) and his grandmotherhad passed down family recipes.

Thus, Shiro had started to teach them to her. He had to find Arusian and intergalactic substitutes, of course, but there were fish and spices that could make them taste the same way they would back home. To have him share part of his family and heritage with her meant a great deal, and all the food really was delicious.

"You should cook for the team more often," she told him, smiling as he rested a hand on the small of her back, before sitting down next to her at the table.

"Hunk enjoys it so much, though. Besides, I wouldn't want to do it every day. I do have more important things to attend to." He gave her a knowing smile. "Like my beautiful princess."

"Flattery may get you somewhere," she told him, leaning in to kiss him when they heard whistling in the hallway. They quickly broke apart, looking to Hunk as he strolled into the kitchen, reaching for a plate and heading over to the green goo machine.

"Hey guys!" He waved and gave them a friendly smile, squeezing some goo onto his plate before sniffing the air. "Ooh, Shiro did you cook?"

"A bit," the black paladin admitted. Hunk wasted no time before scooping some of the sushi up and stuffing it in his mouth, chewing noisily.

"Mmm!" He swallowed and grinned again. "It's really good! Mind if I have some more?"

"Go ahead," Shiro shrugged, and once Hunk was distracted, he exchanged an amused look with Allura. After Hunk was done, he busied himself around the kitchen, starting on everyone's dinner later that evening, and they found each other's hands under the table, hooking their pinky fingers around each other, if only to maintain some kind of contact. She wished she could actually hold his hand.

They were just lucky they hadn't gotten caught.

5.

"Shiro!"

Allura was in his arms after only a moment, her embrace tight. The last battle had been particularly harrowing, with a number of close calls. Shiro had pulled off a particularly daring move against a fleet of Galra ships, barely coming out alive. Coran was leading the rest of the team towards the infirmary, and the princess knew her paladin would need to be cared for as well, but for now, she was just so thankful he was alive.

"You had me so worried," she mumbled. His arms were tight around her, and she wanted to hold him forever, but knew she couldn't. Not if she wanted to keep up her secret. Part of her wanted to; she was tired of sneaking around. She was tired of not being able to kiss him whenever she felt like it. Surely nearly four months was long enough?

Slowly, she let go of him, and when she did so, she found Lance staring at him. He had an uncharacteristically thoughtful expression on his face, one arm curled over his stomach protectively, possibly due to an injury.

Allura let her hand trail along Shiro's arm, lingering in the indent of his curled fingers, before finally stepping away from him, looking at Lance. His brow was furrowed, and Allura marched over to him, seizing him perhaps a tad roughly by the arm.

"Lance, let's get you to the infirmary," she ordered. "Come on Shiro. Paladins, let us know whatever injuries you have. There is no weakness in being hurt."

For a tick, she feared it might have been too late, that Lance had connected the dots. He was smarter than they usually gave him credit for, after all. Still, Lance didn't comment on what he had seen, or even blurted it out in typical Lance fashion, instead letting Coran deal with his injuries while Allura took care of Shiro's.

And if she touched him far more gently than the others, than what did it matter, really?

+1.

"Haven't you noticed they've been acting oddly?"

"You know, Shiro has been _awfully cheery_ in the mornings lately, if you know what I mean―"

"Lance, that's not the point, the point is, there's something going on between them they're not telling us―"

"Lance may have a point―"

"I do?"

"Yes, now don't make me regret saying it. I mean, we did check Shiro's room, and he's not there, so…" Keith turned as red as his jacket, Coran, Lance, Pidge and Hunk gathered around Allura's door. Lance pressed his ear to the keyhole.

"Can't hear much," he muttered, and then looked expectantly at the others. "Well, who's opening the door?"

"I will," Coran volunteered lamely, sighing. Hunk pushed Pidge, the youngest of them all, behind him protectively. "Although I wish you wouldn't jump to assumptions. They're both responsible adults," he added, turning the door handle. "I'm sure they―OH MY QUIZNAK!"

Coran covered his eyes with his hands, Keith peering over one shoulder and Lance over the other, the latter giving the naked couple in bed a thumbs up. Allura shrieked as Shiro scrambled off of her, both of them grabbing at sheets to cover themselves, their faces unbelievably red.

Hunk coughed as a split second of shocked silence followed. "So, is this awkward for anybody else or just me…?"

"What are you doing here?" Allura demanded, holding her sheets up to her chest. Shiro looked very meek, sitting beside her, their faces flushed not just from embarrassment.

"Ha, I knew it!" Lance's joyous shout and expression withered under the fierce glare Allura shot his way.

"So, you two are together and dating―and―" Coran batted away Pidge's attempts to get to the front of the group. _Someone_ had to protect the young teenager's innocence. "That's great!" His mustache twitched. "So, um, we'll leave you to your business―be safe! Make good choices!"

He quickly herded the paladins out of the princess's room. Still glaring at the door, Allura's eyes softened as he turned to Shiro, who, almost infuriatingly, seemed to be holding back the sliver of the a smile.

"Well, they know now," he said, his mouth quirking upwards. Allura couldn't help but return it, even if her cheeks were still red.

On the other side of the door, they heard Lance ask, "Hey, can Alteans and humans have kids together, because―Ow! _Coran_! It's a valid question!" Shiro chuckled softly at the picture of the royal advisor smacking the boy upside the head.

Allura reached for Shiro's hand underneath the covers, squeezing it as she smiled at him. They all knew their teammates would be supportive when the truth came out. Now, they could do whatever they pleased. And she was beyond proud to have Shiro as her partner―and vice versa.

"Yes," she agreed. "They finally do."


	2. step on my feet

**Summary:** dorks dancing and it's fluffy

 **Rating:** g

* * *

step on my feet (just don't step on my heart)

When she was a girl, there had been the most fabulous of parties in the castle's ballroom. Glittering strings of lights, elaborate decorations, the easing of string instruments and hopefulness of the woodwinds, fancy ballgowns. She'd dance with all the eligible men, as many hoped to gain her favour (and although she liked many of them, she liked none in the way that they hoped). She had danced with her father when she was even younger, and would stay by Coran's side (he was supposed to keep her out of trouble) when her parents danced together. It had been nights of enchantment and music, and shining happiness.

Standing in the middle of the ballroom now, it was just collecting dust, the windows empty and the room cold and dimly lit; lifeless. Allura sighed. She missed her people, she missed the glory days of the Altean empire. She missed dancing. Still, at least she had Coran - what was a princess without a kingdom? A princess with a royal advisor and five paladins, apparently. And dancing skills that were wasting away.

It was difficult dancing without a partner, but she started to do so anyway, placing her hands on an imaginary gentleman's shoulder, the other clasping an invisible hand, swaying and making sweeping movements to music that was only in her mind.

"Allura?"

Shiro's voice snapped her out of her daze, a blush colouring her cheeks as she saw him in the doorway of the ballroom, looking perplexed and almost hesitantly pleased. If it had been Lance or Keith or Hunk, being caught would have been embarrassing in a way. The only paladins who really appreciated her people's past and grace was Pidge (who was far more interested in her people's technology rather than culture) and Shiro, who was far more open to learning anything she could teach. Out of all the paladins, he was her favourite.

"Do you and the others need my assistance?" she asked, tucking her hair behind her ears.

"No." Shiro stepped further into the room. "I was just wondering where you'd gone off to. I…" He glanced around at the high ceilings. "What are you doing in here?"

"Reminiscing." She waved her hand over the room. "This place used to be so lively, full of music and dancing." She didn't talk about her people all that much with anyone but Coran, who of course understood the ache that was now becoming familiar, when she thought of how things had been.

Shiro was silent for a moment, before he said, "Who says it can't be that way again?"

She looked at him quizzically. "Pardon?"

"We're cleaning the rest of the castle. It can't hurt to tidy up this room." Shiro gave her a wry smile. "Lance would throw a party in a heartbeat."

Allura smiled a little. "He made multiple suggestions during the one we threw for the Arusians."

Shiro returned her smile, his eyes softening as he looked at her. "I can imagine. He told me once or twice how stiff-looking I was."

Allura couldn't help but agree with Lance. Shiro hardly ever seemed to truly relax, the first to wake and last to sleep, making sure the rest of the paladins were taking care of themselves and each other. Even now, his posture was perfect, his arms folded over his broad chest; a perfect soldier. A better man.

Her eyes crinkled, a flash of bright blue in the dark room. "You're not one for dancing, are you?"

"They didn't teach it at Garrison," he replied with a chuckle. His eyes widened when she held out her hand. "Princess?"

"Isn't there an Earthling saying? Better late than never?" Her eyes met his, and she flashed him a gentle smile. Surely, he wouldn't turn her down…She never had this fear with any of the other men she had danced with, strangely enough. Slowly, Shiro took her hand, and she could feel the heat of his fingers against her own. She tugged him towards her. "Just follow my lead."

His lips twitched upwards. As much as the paladins look to him as the leader, he still looks to Allura for guidance. She's just as much of a leader as he is. "Always, princess."

She placed his prosthetic on her waist, and clasped his other hand in hers, and slowly, started moving through the steps. Shiro stumbled a bit, trying to follow - there wasn't much she could do for an explanation - and red spread over his cheeks and even to the tip of his ears when he stepped on her toes. "S-sorry," he mumbled, trying to find something other than her to look at.

Allura gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "It's alright if you step on my feet," she told him, trying not to smile. "You're not the first man to do so."

He raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

She ignored the question in his eyes. "Besides, you're quite getting the hang of it."

The praise was enough for him to let it go, and Shiro smiled, his eyes eager and surprised. His eyes were black but bright, she noticed, like a black hole, pulling her in until she couldn't get out. She tried to focus on the dancing, as that was what he was doing, since he only improved with every step, until Allura didn't have to guide him at all, both of them having found their rhythm. Slowly, they stopped moving, the song between them having suddenly stopped, and for a tick, she couldn't breathe, because his eyes were locked on hers, and-

"Shiro!" Pidge's voice rings out, laced with annoyance. "Hunk is touching my stuff!"

Shiro quickly released her. "I think I better go deal with that. Last time, Hunk caused an explosion."

"It's probably for the best," Allura agreed, trying to quell the sudden disappointment welling up inside of her, because where in the stars had that come from? Shiro smiled at her, looking genuinely happy and relaxed for one of the only times she had ever seen. She didn't mean to call him back once he was at the door. "Shiro…" her voice faltered as he turned around to look at her, his brows raised in friendly curiosity. "You are a very good dance partner," she managed out, mentally adding to the list of things he was: a very good soldier, a very good man. An excellent friend…

"Beginner's luck, I'm sure," he said, but his smile was gentle. "You're a good teacher."

Somehow, the ballroom felt lonelier than before, once he was gone. Perhaps…

Other men had stepped on her feet, but for all her memory, she couldn't remember anyone stepping on her heart. She hoped he wouldn't be the first.


	3. slow dancing in a burning room

slow dancing in a burning room

And you know that we're doomed. My dear, we're slow dancing in a burning room—john mayer. Post-s1 finale. [ShalluraSundays]

* * *

They don't talk about the mission.

For the 24 hours Allura was in Galra captivity, Shiro can picture all too clearly what she may have gone through. His memories of his year as a prisoner have always been fuzzy, even when he was just back in the gladiator ring—time blurs and your mind becomes a master of forgetting what you don't want to remember—but the first day has always remained clear. Or at least, the fear that had threatened to choke up, clawing at his throat and burning his lungs.

Thinking about Allura being captured by the Galra hurts even more, mostly because it's his fault. On bad days, Shiro can't exactly formulate what else he could have done—been faster, better, stronger? Dodged her grab for his collar?—but it doesn't really matter. He lost her.

He can't lose her.

And he can never, ever, tell her that.

Allura never brings it up—in fact, neither of them have. Getting reassembled as a team, forming Voltron, getting somewhere safe again, dealing with Zarkon as the Black Paladin, all took priority over what had caused all of those events to happen.

He'd be lying if he said he isn't angry about it, how quickly she was able to disregard her life for his. It's hardly fair, but nothing in this blasted universe ever is, he's found. Growing up, he'd always love the stars, how brightly they shone, twinkling down warmly, but now he knows the truth: space is all icy darkness in between the lights, threatening to burn you to ash, cold and unforgiving.

His Galra arm is always cold against his skin, and he's careful to never reach for Allura with it, when he gathers up the courage to reach for her at all.

Before the mission, they'd been close—or at least as close as he's been to anyone, as of late. She understood the pressures of leadership, the struggle they had to deal with. The responsibility that was theirs to share. He was grateful to share the burden, but lately, now that things are starting to calm down, now that they don't have the constant threat of the Galra to bind them together... Allura's slipping through his fingers.

He wonders if she notices the dance they do every day, ducking away from each other's gaze and never speaking more to each other than necessary. How their strategy meetings, once almost fun, have now become rigid and brief and completely business-like.

He misses what they had—whatever it was, anyway.

There has to be some way to fix it, even if he hasn't found it yet, because every time their eyes do meet—dull, flickering azure meeting shadowy black—void of light and the fondness that was there before, his breath burns in his lungs like smoke.

So he'll fix it, Shiro resolves, because it's the only thing he can.

* * *

When her heart threatens to break out of her chest, Allura dances. It's been happening more often lately, with the distance between her and Shiro. Out of all the Paladins, he was the only one who expressed true interest and admiration in Altea for something other than technological advances, or food, or clothes. He wants to know, just for the sake of knowing, and she appreciates it more than she would ever be able to tell him. Especially now.

The music of her homeland washes over her like waves, crackling with static from the nearby speakers, and settles over her shoulders, along her spine, electrifying and soothing all at once. She hums the tune, before calling to mind the lyrics and making a mental note to write them down one of these days. If she doesn't remember the words, who will? If she doesn't dance, will the knowledge be lost forever? But here, just listening to the music, the weight seems to slip off her inch by inch, and she feels new, and young again, like a star still brightly burning.

For a few seconds, when she can feel her body remember the movements, arms suspended in a graceful arc, she's brilliant again, before it fades and the ache in her chest is just an ache.

Her chest is heaving, a loose curl spilling out of her bun and over her eyes, as she eases herself back fully onto her feet and lowers her arms. She's considering going to the kitchen for a glass of water, before going to bed, when—

"I didn't know you danced."

She stops short, whirling around to find Shiro standing in the doorway of the dusty old ballroom. A flush colours her cheeks. "I don't," she tells him, grateful when her voice comes out steady, if a bit stiff. "Or least, I never really used to—I preferred sparring, in my younger years. It's just... if I don't dance, there's no one left to remember. Some are already lost—group dances, partner dances, of course, but..." She drops his gaze, knowing that they both have enough on their shoulders - that he has enough darkness without any of hers - but her feelings always flow so freely around him.

A little too freely.

Or at least they did, before they started changing.

She's not even sure why she's rambling like this, but she's been caught off guard. She needs a little time to put her armour on, that's all.

Shiro takes a few steps forward. "I'm not an expert on remembering, but I can give it a try." He holds out his hand. "Teach me?"

"You don't have to—"

"I have to do something, princess." His hand dips down and grazes hers, warm and soft. "We have to do talk."

She can't find it in her to jerk her hand away. "I don't—you offered to dance." What does that have to do with talking?

"And dancing is a partnership, isn't it?" Emboldened, he slides his fingers along hers and circles her wrist, tugging her slightly toward him. "We were partners once. That includes talking."

Her eyes meet his, and for the first time in weeks there's light in them. "I did what I had to do, Shiro."

"We need you just as much as they need me," he replies evenly, his voice firm and trying not to sound angry. "Your life is just as valuable as mine—how are we supposed to travel around the universe to defeat Zarkon without you? And your life force is tied to the Lions, you have to survive. Not be captured by the Galra."

Her mouth is a line, firm line as she lets him take her hand, stepping forward into the first position of a dance for partners. It's relatively simple, their hands clasped together, although she hesitates before placing her free one on his shoulder. His skin is warm, even underneath his thin night shirt.

"Are those the only reasons?" she mutters, frowning.

Shiro blinks. "Wha—no. Of course not, princess, I just thought—you saved me for practical reasons, so I offered some up in turn—"

"I wish I could say I saved you for practical reasons," she quietly corrects him. Before he can find a response, she's tugging him further onto the dusty floor of the ballroom, glittering in the faint moonlight from some of the castle's windows, of whatever the nearest star they're close to. "And you offered me a dance, did you not?"

The corner of his mouth quirks upward. It's the closest to a smile she's seen in a long time. "Of course, princess," he says softly, and carefully follows her movements as she guides them together, his free hand on her waist.

It's the longest they've been alone since before the mission, and funnily enough, without words, it's easier. The pressure of having something to say has been taken off, although Allura can hear his breathing hitch when she leans forward, and rests her chin on his shoulder.

"I saved you because I couldn't let you suffer at their hands again," she breathes.

He stiffens. "That's exactly why I couldn't let you go," he says after a long moment, just as softly. "I'm sorry, Allura. I never should have let you—"

"I think we've already established you don't _let_ me do anything." She pulls away to look at him, eyes searching his face for some kind of answer. "I made my choice, and it was a worthy one, Shiro, if it meant saving you pain. Despite all that happened because of it...I don't regret it."

A lump rises in his throat. "I was—I was really worried about you."

"I guarantee I would have been far worse about you, although perhaps I would have hidden it better. Our distance, your absence, it's affected me gravely. I hope you know that."

"I know that now."

"Shiro..." Her breath stutters in her chest, once they stop moving, chests still pressed together. The music, soft and slow, is a faint, soothing buzz in her ears, as though very far away. "I—I hope you know how deeply, I care for you.."

"I care about you a lot, too, princess."

And just like that, her eyes on are on his mouth, before they flutter close and she can feel him leaning in and—

The music shudders to a stop, and it brings her back to reality. They can't do this. Not now. Not when they still have so much more to worry about; not when they're finally starting to get back to the way things were before.

Shiro squeezes her hand before letting go, and she knows he's thinking the same thing. "You're a good dance partner," he says softly, a tinge of sadness filtering in between syllables.

"You too." She gives him a small smile, her lungs still burning as she looks at him, and their eyes meet.

Maybe one day if they're lucky, they'll get to be partners of a different kind.


	4. lazy mornings

lazy mornings

Summary: Years after the end of the war with Zarkon, Shiro and Allura get to have a lazy morning―or try to, at least. _kind of high t but barely, + shallura babies for good measure_

* * *

Lazy mornings were one of Allura's favourite things, yet was one that happened very rarely. So she intended on making the most of the one stretching out ahead of her, her husband's arms warm around her waist, rumpling her loose night-shirt. For once there were no political meetings, no diplomatic missions, no disasters to deal with; there was absolutely nothing that could ruin this day. For the next week, the entire galaxy would be calm and joyous, as it was the 10-year anniversary of Emperor Zarkon's defeat, and she and the paladins of Voltron didn't even have to make a public appearance until the end of the week.

She let out a happy hum when she felt Shiro's lips on her neck. "Good morning to you too," she said softly. One of his hands was on her cheek, before combing and pushing back some of her long hair from her face and neck, his mouth trailing down along the curve. She draped an arm over his side, pulling him closer. Her fingers lightly traced the pattern of scars―ones that nearly resembled claw-marks―under his ribcage, from Haggar's spell years ago, her Paladins had come to her rescue from Zarkon.

His bare back was strong and warm under her hands, as he shifted on top of her, their bodies pressed tightly together. "It's nice we have a morning to ourselves, for once," he said, his voice raw from sleep.

"You're certainly not wasting any time," she said with a smile.

"And Coran owes us a favour for babysitting anyway," her husband added, not that she needed the reminder. Their daughter and son, four and two years old respectively, were full of energy. Allura figured they could hand their kids off to Coran for a few hours. Either that or one of the Paladins. Their two leaders deserved a break.

"Which means," she said, winding her arms around his neck, "that I am all yours."

He leaned down and kissed her, his open mouth hungry against hers. "Good." And then they were moving together, her thighs tight around his hips, his hands tangled in her hair, soft moans in between kisses punctuating the creaking of their bed. Once they were worn out, and had caught their breath, Allura dragged herself out of bed and pulled on a loose, comfortable gown, tossing Shiro a shirt and pants from his own wardrobe. He slipped them on.

"Think Coran needs rescuing?" he asked with a soft smile.

"I think it will be the other way around very shortly," his wife said, and barely a moment had passed before there was a knock at the door.

"Princess? Shiro?" Coran's voice came through the door. "Your children want to see their parents―yes I know Amara, hold on a tick―"

"Let them in," Allura said with a giggle, as the door opened and their five year came racing in, her long silvery hair flying behind her.

"Uncle Coran didn't braid it properly," Amara whined, hoping onto their bed. Allura took her daughter's hair into her hands. Amara looked the most like her, the same dark skin, hair, blue eyes and eye markings. However, she had yet to shapeshift at all, which was unusual for Altean children, and part of Allura wondered if having human genes was the reason.

"I am sure Uncle Coran did his best," Allura said, but started braiding her daughter's hair anyway. Their son, Alfor and only three, waddled after his big sister, his blanket trailing behind him with a picture book in his other hand. Shiro helped him onto the bed, ruffling his dark hair. Unlike Amara, Alfor―named for Allura's father, of course―hadn't received his mother's hair, but he didn't seem to mind.

"Alfie and I got bored," said Amara. "He wanted me to read to him, and―"

"Being patient is an important part of being a princess," Allura reminded her. "And a prince."

Alfie raised the book towards his father. "Papa?"

Shiro took it with a chuckle, cracked it open, and began to read. Even Amara, who was determined to prove that she was a Big Girl now, listened along as her mother finished braiding her long hair.

Once the story was done, they all headed out of the bedroom together, Alfie nestled in Allura's arms with Amara holding Shiro's hand, announcing that a big family breakfast was in order, with all of her uncles and Aunt Pidge.

Her parents shared a glance, and wondered how their children would take it when they found out their family would be getting even bigger very soon.

But telling them they had a brother or sister on the way would be an adventure for another day.


	5. the void (s2 spoilers)

the other side

She finds him in the Void. [shiro/allura] for blackpaladinallura; post-s2

* * *

Allura spends hours sitting in the Black Lion's empty hangar for reasons she cannot quite explain. The Lion has remained dull eyed since the Paladins and exited it, and not even Keith had been able to get in, despite what Shiro had said. _I want you to lead Voltron._ It seems the Lion isn't on the same schedule, with no yellow glow of life in its eyes. She's never heard of a Lion's life being ended because of the loss of a Paladin—she knows it is not even possible, and yet despite the way it mades her hands shake with terror, because Zarkon is dead but the Galra Empire is not, she is almost grateful for it.

If she is mourning, then the Black Lion should be too.

And it is here that she mourns.

###

"Don't you think that we should—?"

"The princess needs time to mourn."

"But Coran—"

"Hey, if she's gonna be all snippy with us, I think we should listen and give her the space she obviously wants."

"That's...oddly mature of you Lance."

"She was pretty close with Shiro, he was like the link between her and the rest of us. She needs time to adjust."

"Pidge is right."

"Oh and _I'm_ not—"

"Lance, this isn't the time. Just leave Allura be. She's been through enough."

###

The other paladins avoid her and Allura can't exactly blame them. She snaps whenever she does speak, even to Coran, and with Shiro out of the picture all of the leadership has fallen on her shoulders. He made relating to the rest of the team so effortless, but how could she connect with four teenagers a long, long way from home?

She knows for the galaxy Altea has been gone for 10,000 years, but for her, it's felt like a matter of minutes, and a matter of seconds since Shiro was taken from her. From all of them, but... He'd been her second in command, and when she had allowed herself to entertain thoughts of Altea, and its customs, she had thought of him as a knight.

It's foolish. Knights don't fall—and she certainly doesn't fall for them, with their kind smiles that makes her heart flutter.

"Black..." she rests her forehead against the closed, cold maw of the beast, curled up in the hangar with a blanket draped around her shoulders. "I miss him."

It's the understatement of the age. She doesn't think words can describe the hollow ache in her bones, the way his name rises and dies on her lips quicker than he slipped through her fingers, the way she remembers the warmth burning through his prosthetic, fingers light upon her hand, his eyes tender.

 _I know how you feel._

Had he only been talking about her restlessness? Or had he seen deeper?

It doesn't matter now.

He's gone and she'll never see him again except in memory, and she's an expert at remembering. She supposes it only makes sense that in a castle full of ghosts he haunts her the most.

###

The castle drifts from galaxy to galaxy and she drifts along with it. They free planets and find that Haggar's robobeasts are not part of the equation anymore, at least for now. Four Lions are more than enough when the Galra are scrambling under Lotor's sudden rule, and Allura fixates on the fierceness of battle, the fire coursing through her veins. When she slaughters them she thinks— _they deserve it they deserve it they deserve to die._

She's always hated the Galra. They took her home, her family. But now they've taken her heart.

She will not forgive.

###

Most days, she can barely look Keith in the face. Out of all of them, he was arguably the closest to Shiro, yet she never managed to wrangle the story of how they met out of Shiro. Something about _discipline problems_ , and, _mentor program_ , among other things.

The fact that Keith was chosen for the Black Lion hurts her more than she can say. Not because she was passed over—her heart is too wounded to register the sting to her pride—but because Shiro already had this planned, already believed his days were numbered. It isn't fair. And it most certainly isn't fair that just when he proves himself as the Black Paladin, just as she always knew Shiro would, he's gone and Black won't even listen to him.

Allura likes to think the Lion listens to her as she sits and lets her words echo in the otherwise silent hangar, memories spilling out of her mouth until her throat and eyes are dry. There are so many moments she didn't know she was harbouring until it hits her that she'll never reach the shore again.

"I think, given time..." The words stutter out of her, mangled by a hoarse tone and a hitch in her breath. "I think I could have loved him," she confesses.

Black hums to life under her touch, warm seeping out of the metal. The Lion's eyes lit up.

Allura shoots up to her feet, wide-eyed as the Lion's maw opens...to her.

 _He chose you._ The thoughts thrum in some kind of mental connection, and she wonders vaguely if all paladins had this connection with their Lions. _Not with his head, but with his heart._

She takes a low, deep breath, and finds a way to armour herself again. She swallows the sob rising in her throat awash a wave of panic and squares her shoulders. If this is her destiny, then she will meet it; and if it is not, it will have to pried from her dead, cold fingers.

The Black Lion roars as she settles into the pilot's seat, running a hand over the bayard before gripping it tightly.

She accesses the commlink. "Paladins, come to the Black Lion's hangar. Now."

###

She finds him in the Void. At first she thinks it is a dream, and then a cruel nightmare, because Paladins of the same Lion have rarely lived at the same time, this is not how it is meant to be—cuts on his face and his eyes weakly open, more memory than man, shifting like a shadow, glowing, on this distant astral plane. He's the most beautiful thing she's ever seen, even if she's not sure she can trust her eyes; she's always been able to trust him.

"Allura?" her name leaves a scraping noise as it escapes his throat.

She blinks back the tears as she steps towards him, raising one hand. The ground is surprisingly solid beneath her feet, and she wants more than anything to reach out and touch him, but if she does, she's afraid he'll shatter. "Shiro," she breathes.

He takes in her armour of the Black Paladin, a near perfect mirror to his, although both of their hands are absent of the bayard. "How are you here—I thought Keith—"

"The Lion chose me."

He goes silent, brow furrowing. His injures are worse up close, but faded, as though they aren't quite real, like the rest of him. Half existing and half not. "Why?"

She steps closer, her forehead nearly touching his. He isn't wearing his helmet. "I think you know why," she says softly. She can watch him swallow hard, and then gives her a short nod. He does, even if neither of them will say it out loud. Now isn't the time, although part of her wonders if there ever _will_ be a time.

"I fought Zarkon here. I don't know where I am, exactly, but—"

"We are linked through the Black Lion, I believe." Her heart is pounding in her throat. "If she can bring you here, I can bring you back. I will save you, Shiro."

"I know." He manages the tiniest of smiles, but it's genuine and she cherishes it. "Just make sure to save yourself first this time, princess."

"I can't make any promises." She tucks a stray hair that's fallen out of her bun behind her ear, piecing together her courage. "Shiro, I—"

He shushes her softly, leaning in so his forehead is resting against hers. "Tell me when I'm back."

She almost wants to cry, but merely manages with swallowing the lump in her throat and a nod. She closes her eyes, feeling the warmth of his skin against hers, just for a moment. "I'll see you on the other side."

"See you on the other side."

When she opens her eyes, everything's gone and she's standing in front of her Lion in the hangar, alone but filled with hope.

He's not dead, just lost, and she'll find him.

Somehow, someday, she will find him, and bring him back to her.


	6. violent delights

violent delights

have violent ends. shallura valentine for _onemerryjester_

* * *

"Miss Altea?"

She turns, a smile already tugging at her lips despite her best efforts, the shimmering fabric of her grown swishing along her hips. Takashi Shirogane is no less impeccably dressed, with crisp cuffs and a black suit that matches his eyes. His bangs, a peculiar streak of white hair, is off his forehead for once, and now there's nothing to disguise the pink scar running across the bridge of his nose.

Her eyes trace the hard edge of his jawline, before meeting his gaze. "Mr. Shirogane," she greets politely, brushing her hair out of her eyes. Her hair of starlight has been pulled into a thick braid that goes down almost to the low backline of her dress. It's a deep navy blue with diamonds sewn into the fabric, and she watch the way his eyes follow the small sash of fabric tied around her waist.

"Don't tell me someone as lovely as you doesn't have a date for the evening?" he asks, raising his brow.

Allura allows herself to smile, and bows her head when he offers her his arm. The slight creak of metal tells her it's his prosthetic, but she still places her hand on the crook of his elbow without hesitation. "Apparently I do now."

His chest rumbles with a slight chuckle as he guides her onto the dance floor, which is far more crowded with chatting couples and servants carrying trays of wine than with anyone dancing.

That's alright by her though; they have their own sort of dance to attend to.

The rest of the party is a waiting game. She chats up business associates and charms money-makers, warm and polite enough to make them want to donate large sums of money. She drifts and drinks glasses of champagne, placing carefully lined smiles along the rim of her glass, but always drifts back to him.

They're partners in this dance, cornerstones. Parallel lines, even if they can never touch, discovering more and more similarities over the years. Heirs, successors, slayers, rivals—first time you killed a man? _18_. 19—him, a part-time barista at the same coffee shop she frequented in college yet never meeting. She's Alfor's daughter, he's not Zarkon's son but his Champion, and both are expected to take over the family business when the time comes. To kill each other when the opportunity is presented.

Allura knows he has a dagger in her heart—just not the one anyone expected, and it twists with every lift of his lips, every time they drift back to each other across the dance floor in brief smiles and fleeting touches. They're lucky they can interact that much as is, with the bad blood between their families. The only time Alfor and Zarkon are ever civil is in public, and even it's an attempt to collect information for the latest assassination plan.

She and Shiro dance around each other, careful not to get caught as the party slowly wanes alongside the night. Anyone who was stupid enough to get drunk leaves first, followed by the rich socialites, and then each other's families.

Allura tucks her hand into the crook of Shiro's elbow, and gives it a squeeze, feeling the curve of cold metal underneath. "Same place?" she whispers from the corner of her mouth.

"I'll be there in an hour at the latest," he replies with a quick nod, and they both know it goes without saying that if anything changes, they'll text each other.

On the taxi ride over to the hotel, the glimpses the alleyway where they first met in something beyond a gunfight. It's only a few streets over from her family's mansion, and her passageway whenever she sneaks out into the city streets to be someone beyond her surname. It had been a dreary day in April when she found Shiro there, nearly passed out and bleeding, and with enough plausible deniability—just because he matched the description doesn't mean he is who she thinks he is, plenty of people have prosthetics and starry eyes like him—to call for an ambulance before hightailing it out of there.

He's the surrogate son of her family's greatest enemy, someone she's destined to kill one day if she follows what her father expects of her, but that doesn't mean she can leave him to die. Not now, at least. Not yet.

The next time they met he was conscious, leaning against the wall of that alleyway as though waiting for her. Her hand had curled around her gun, fingers quick and ready, even as she approached him slowly.

 _You saved my life._ She remembers thinking his voice was more pleasant than she had been expecting. Remembers the way her hand had slowly left her gun.

 _So?_

 _Thank you._

Her eyes had darted around the alleyway, under the presumption of looking for exits, but really, she didn't want to look at him. She didn't want to think about what she had done. Why had she saved him, spared him? It was a moment of weakness, because you could never trust a Shirogane, you could never trust anyone associated with the Galra. But maybe... he had as much of a choice in this as she did. Maybe he wanted to run away just as badly as she did. And he couldn't do that if he was dead. She couldn't do that unless she was brave.

 _Don't mention it,_ her reply is curt. She knows they're treading a tightrope, and if anyone sees them together, they'll both fall. Her words aren't just modest, but literal.

Shiro nods, and she hates the fact she even knows his name, because names are human. _I won't... It's not much of a life worth saving anyway._

He's gone before she can figure out how to respond, and she finds herself staring at the spot where he stood for a long time after he leaves.

In the next gunfight, a sleazy man on the other side has a gun pointed at her when someone takes him out from behind. She doesn't see who killed him, but she doesn't have to.

Shiro's repaid his debt. That should be the end of it.

It isn't.

* * *

True to his word, Shiro arrives at the hotel 45 minutes after she does. She's already settled in the room, double checked that the hotel is by pay only rather than record, looked for security cameras and made sure she wasn't followed.

His arms are around her as soon as the door opens, and she melts into him, her hands catching on the buttons of his shirt as her breath catches in her throat.

"I missed you," he says, cupping her chin and lifting her face towards his, before his mouth presses down on hers. They don't have any time to waste.

Every time they make love it's like a crime scene. Wipe down the room, wipe themselves clean, clear away any traces of evidence—the red lines on his back, the bruises blooming on the inside of her thighs, the way her fingers knit themselves in his hair, the way his body burns into hers, trembling mouths hot and pressed together, moans that sound like sirens, yearning for more, trying to be _closer_ —

Allura lets herself curl into his side when they're finished, tracing lines into his chest her fingers, as if connecting constellations only she can see, inked into his skin. His heart is all star-crossed, in her mind. Fitting, she supposes, for the cruelty of how well they fit together.

She raises her head and gazes into his starry eyes only to find him already looking at her, soft adoration on his face and in the slight furrow of his brow.

"What're you thinking?" he murmurs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers gentle.

She's trying not to think about how in the morning they'll be separated again for who knows how long, back to slinging bullets and dirtying their hands with smeared ink of underground business deals. Gang families are for life, but like he said: it's not much of a life. Maybe that is why she can be so reckless with hers, with theirs, stealing kisses instead of gold that are far more precious. Starting house fires in her belly that only he can sate.

"Us," she says finally, and he wraps an arm around her waist. "I missed you too, Takashi."

He hums, a pleased smile curving his lips whenever she uses his name, and he presses that smile to her lips. She snuggles further into his warmth once he's pulled away, and he runs his fingers through her long hair. "I love you."

"I love you too." It's a holy revelation, and it makes everything else she has to do for it to exist, to keep on existing—lying, hiding, betraying her family—worth it. Only good things kill God. "Promise me one day we'll run away. Change our names and start over."

"I promise," he says. "Soon. Once the summer heist is over. Autumn is for change, after all."

It works with her own family's plans, even with summer more than a few months away. She'll leave a note and disappear. They both will. Maybe it's wrong, but she can't bring herself to care. She knows they're running on borrowed time, time that will eventually run out if they don't move fast enough. There's been more than a few close calls already.

His fingers leave her hair and wander over her waist, fingers rough on her smooth skin until they land on a scar near her hip. The grazing of a bullet, a broken phone, too far away from any help when he found her in the alleyway again and made bandages of his own shirt to take care of her in the dead of night. It was the first time she had learned he could be gentle. It was the first time she trusted him.

Now, she does so without hesitation, content to be side by side with him in a vulnerability she rarely shows anyone else. No clothes, no gun, just nakedness and truth. He makes her feel safe in a dangerous world, and she cradles him in her arms when the nightmares come calling.

She rests her head on his chest and basks in his steady warmth, listening to his heartbeat for a long time before she speaks. "Takashi?" she whispers.

"Hmm?"

"Happy Valentine's Day."

He chuckles and pulls her closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Happy Valentine's Day," he echoes.

Allura hopes the next one they spend together is one free of hiding and hotel rooms, one in their own home, maybe by the sea, away from the grimy city and all its crime. One where they can lay in bed all day wrapped up in each other, safe and secure with sweet kisses. One where no one will come looking for them, their guns discarded and never needed again.

It is.


	7. to bury my love (in the moondust) i

to bury my love (in the moondust)

 **Summary:** As members of the rebellion, Shiro and Princess Allura both know there's no time for romance in the fight against the Empire. Too bad their hearts don't know that, too. for teslatricity, as part of the shallura secret santa exchange

* * *

PART ONE:

Shiro has known the princess for as long as the rebellion has been alive.

It wasn't always, his mother keeping him from going to meetings on their backwater planet near the fringes of the Thaldycon System that encouraged anti-Empire sentiments. _Your father's death is not worth dying for_ , his mother had said sternly. When he'd been younger, she'd accompanied the statement with, _You can always find him in the Force,_ because his father had been a Jedi, mystic heroes who now only existed in stories, the way the father who had never lived to meet him did.

Now that he was older, and knew better—knew that loving someone could not prevent death from taking them—the sentimental statement had been dropped off from the familiar reminder. His father was dead, and no amount of wishing otherwise would ever bring him, or any of the comrades he's lost since then, back.

The one person he hopes the universe is willing to make an exception for is Princess Allura. She isn't dead, although he knows some days she's a ghost like him, more memories than a person, of all the people she couldn't save: her family, her people, her planet. The Empire and Prince Lotor had taken it all away in a single blast of cruelty. Her survival was a miracle, even disregarding all the other miraculous things about her: her magic, her bravery, her kind heart.

It's the last thing, more than anything, that's a point of contention for his own.

His mother is thankfully still living, and he sends her holovids as much as he can (which, admittedly, isn't often) but growing up he'd quickly learned not to ask about his parents courtship. It always made her so sad, and now that he's old enough to have stared death in the eye, he knows she carries a ghost, too.

But the few times she would answer questions, she said the most selfless and sacrificial way to love someone is from afar, in secret. It was what she and his father had done for many years, before having him.

 _There is no purer way to want, than to bury your love in the moondust, so that someone else can be a star._

It's something he tells himself too, when it feels like his heart is going to burst like a supernova. It's never enough, but it's close, and closer than she will ever be.

* * *

"Captain Shirogane?"

In the close to ten years he's known her, Shiro can count on one hand (he tries not to think of the one he's lost, reshaped and reformed) the amount of times she's called him by his first name while other people were listening, and yet regardless of what she calls him, he can't help but think his name or title always sounds sweeter falling from Allura's mouth.

It's one of the few times on base she looks like a princess, and he turns towards her. She's wearing flowing white robes, her silvery hair falling in waves over her shoulders, her eyes as alert and sharp as always. It's one of the days she's alive, which means it's one of the days she has a mission for him, even if he's just disembarking from one, still standing on the ramp of his ship, affectionately named the Black Lion.

His mouth quirks upwards in a smile. He can't help it. It's always good to see her.

"Yes, princess?"

She takes a step forward, and he sees a grin tugging at her own lips. No matter how much she tries to hide it under formality, to ward off rumours of favouritism, he knows she's always glad to see him too. "I believe you know exactly what I'm here to talk about."

"I do," he confirms. "I wouldn't mind a meal first."

"Of course." Her billowing sleeve follows her arm as she motions towards the mess hall, with dangling golden bracelets, customized with Altean jewels, wrapped over warm brown wrists.

Halfway to the mess hall, he realizes she did this on the purpose with the intent of walking him over and staying for the duration of his meal, which is the same space goo as any other day, but just being with it makes it much better than usual.

"How have things been while I was gone?" he asks in between spoonfuls.

"Oh you know," she smiles, "boring."

It's a dumb, old joke between them, but it coaxes a smile out of him. After a beat, she tells him what's actually being on, things he could all learn in a debriefing, if they actually wanted to be completely professional: their trio of smugglers made well on their promise of new guns, and Keith Kogane has been leading intense training exercises for other defected stormtroopers and pilots.

"And you?" he says. "You're sleeping well?"

Her smile falters. "Reasonably."

She's never said it, neither of them have, but they both have trouble sleeping when they don't know the other's whereabouts. It's a common occurrence, given their line of work, but over the years they've stopped trying to curb it. There doesn't seem to be any way to.

He takes her hand under the table, and letting her warm palm press flat against his metal one, before he squeezes her fingers. "So, what's the mission you have for me?" He expects her to pull away the way she usually does, but she lingers, instead.

"It's not the usual kind."

"How so?"

"For one, you and I would be partaking on it together."

He frowns. "We've done that plenty of times before."

"Yes, but... it may be the most dangerous mission we've ever done, before." Allura draws her hand away, and then sets her jaw, her eyes steadfastly meeting his. "I want you to join me in infiltrating a Galra gala on the planet of Drule. They'll be revealing plans for their new weapons there, to garner donations from the wealthiest Galra and aliens across the universe. I can use my shapeshifting to blend in, but my council thinks it's unwise for me to go by myself."

"I agree with them." The council is made up of whoever survived the decimation of Altean, noble and peasant alike, along with representatives from the many allies they've made over the years, like the Balmerans and Olkari. "And they've insisted I go with you?"

"They've insisted I go with someone, and although I don't want to put your life in any more danger than it already is, I—there is no one I would rather have by my side than you, and I'll need your help in accessing the Galra technology. We'd explain your attendance away, by claiming you're my consort." She pushes a strand of hair behind her pointed ears, a nervous habit only done when her hair is down, and she is more vulnerable. A blush colours her cheeks as she lowers her voice, and he has to lean in to hear her over the din of the mess hall. "You do not have to accept of course, and I can choose another, but... I do not think I can do this without you, Shiro."

He straightens up, their gazes locking. "Then you won't have to," he says immediately, and relief mixed with guilt passes over her face. "When do we leave?"

"Tomorrow."

Shiro gives her a small smile. "I'll start packing tonight, then."

* * *

Allura can still remember the first time she met him, her and Coran having left Altea parsecs before its destruction, and fleeing to the farthest galaxy their castleship could take them without completely running out of juice. It had been Terra, and her shapeshifting abilities had allowed her to blend in with the local species of humans with little difficulties. From the intel Coran had collected upon arrival, she knew the planet harboured some anti-Empire sentiment, but not enough that the Empire had any reason to smite Terra's citizens... at least until she and Coran had shown up.

One second, she'd been looking at the dark haired man with starry eyes who was waiting for his drink at the first coffee shop they'd found (a popular watering hole, apparently) and the next he was yanking her to the ground and using his own body as a shield when the windows exploded.

Allura has lost count of the times he's saved her life since then, and vice versa, but she will never forget the first. Nor will she forget the horror that eclipsed her when he came back with only one arm and a prosthetic cobbled together with enemy technology. Or when he stumbled back to her ship, and she helped him hobble onto the ramp, a shock of white in his dark hair and she mopped up the blood running down his face with a rag while Kogane flew the ship home, a nasty cut across the bridge of her Captain's nose.

Shiro has bled and fought for this rebellion as much as he has, and she hates to ask more of him, the way she always is. Sending him off on more dangerous missions, for collecting intel, for taking out targets within the Empire, for any number of things. By comparison, asking him to accompany her on an undercover mission as a fake consort is relatively easy, and yet her stomach still twists with unease.

She's being selfish, for more reasons than one, because if she was acting the way a princess and a leader should, she would send him on missions as far away from her as possible, where his Galra arm and knowledge of the enemy could be used the most efficiently. But she knows deep in her heart she could not bear it, and so the universe has to.

"Princess?"

His voice tugs her out of her stupor, and tugs on her heart. He's halfway up the ramp onto his ship, the Black Lion, and looking at her expectantly. She hefts her bags, full of clothes that can pass for stylish at a gala, as well as medical supplies, matching commlinks, among other such belongings. It's a good thing she'd already given Coran a goodbye hug, as she dropped her few bags easily on the floor—one surprising thing she'd learned about Shiro's people, earthlings, was that they were not nearly as strong as Alteans, which made her appreciation of Shiro's physical strength (and form) all the greater.

Allura can't help but trace the broad line of his shoulders, defined in his captain's jacket at the pilot's seat in the cockpit, as he shifts the ship into lightspeed, and she sits down beside him, stealing a starry eyed glance. She has the self control to look away before he catches her, but a dangerous, foolish part of her wishes he would.

It's the part of her she's learned to keep quiet over the years, even if it still pounds steadfastly in her chest.

* * *

They arrive quietly on Drule, landing swiftly with all the right certifications, forged by their favourite smugglers, Hunk Garret and Pidge Gunderson, with some help of charming the right people to get ones to modify, from Lance McClain. It's easy enough to sneak in, with Pidge's purchased cloaking device that doesn't make the Black Lion invisible, but instead have it show up as a Galra ship, alongside Allura's shapeshifting abilities.

There's a pit of unease in her stomach again, as she looks at herself in only mirror on board, making sure to change her skin to the right shade of purple, and adjust her height. She hates looking so much like the enemy, and wonders if Shiro will hate it too—the Galra took his arm after all—but when the ship is on autopilot and he comes up behind her, all he says is, "Purple is a good colour on you."

It's so ridiculous and on the nose, it makes her laugh, and it's only when they approach the landing strip that she thinks maybe he meant it.

There's a bit of hemming and hawing over Shiro by some of the checkpoint operators signing them into the planet's database at the landing strip, as the documents forged for him are meagre at best, but that's all they had to be, as they're waved away once Allura explains he's her consort. She's just glad she doesn't blush too terribly when she says it, and that the operators buy it.

Their motel is dodgy at best, and Allura doesn't let herself worry about only having one bed in their room, as she sheds her coat and starts looking for her clothes for the gala that night. "Do you still have the recording disc on your arm?" she asks him, as Shiro sets down his own bags at the foot of the bed.

"It got damaged a few missions ago, remember?"

"I thought Hunk or Pidge would have repaired it."

"I was a little bit preoccupied, keeping you alive," he says, and she remembers his arm shooting out in front of her chest and getting a laser to it from a blaster. His prosthetic had been smoking, as he'd helped her hobble to the ship.

"I forgot," she says, straightening up as he approaches her. "But I should have remembered. You using the Force."

He gives her a tiny smile. "That's not how the Force works, Allura."

"You still used it," she points out, a necklace chain dangling from her hand. "To hear my heartbeat. To make sure I was still alive."

Shiro's eyes turn tender. That much is true. He's not a trained Jedi by any means, and can do little but connect and feel the synergy of the universe, but he's never been more grateful for his Force sensitivity than he was that day, when her heartbeat was so unbearably faint. "Allura, I..."

She turns her back on him before anything else can make it out of his tight throat, as she gathers up her hair and drapes it over one side of her neck, holding up the necklace with her other hand. "Can you put this on for me, Shiro?"

He clears his throat. They're soldiers, on a mission together, and nothing more. Nothing more than two old friends. "Of course, princess," he says, taking the necklace from her. Standing this close to her oddly makes him want to lean down and kiss the curve of her neck, or the nape of it, but he refrains of course, looping the chain around her neck and doing up the clasp. The silver chain settles, and looks stunning against her dark skin, but she's always stunning.

They dress in the relative silence they travelled to Drule in, and Allura has to fix Shiro's tie for him.

"Ready to be my consort?" she asks him with a hint of the smile, as her fingers fasten the crux of his tie.

"I don't think pretending to be in love with you will be too hard," he says before he can think it through, and blushes furiously. "We've been friends for so long, after all, princess."

Allura's eyes flicker down to his throat, as she finishes fiddling with his tie. "Which reminds me, Captain. Tonight, I am merely Allura, and you are Takashi. Our titles make us too recognizable, and hopefully these Galra will be too drunk on nunvil to notice us."

"If they do," he says, "so long as we have the intel we need, we can kick their ass."

Allura looks at him fondly, and he can see something shift in her eyes. Getting into character, maybe? She leans up and kisses his cheek, her soft lips lingering before she draws away, keeping her hand on his shoulder. "Yes we can, love." She takes her clutch in one hand, tucking it under her arm. Her dress is silvery the way her hair ordinarily would be, stylish and loose, going down to her knees so that she can still move around, while he's in what passes for an alien tuxedo. Allura loops her arm through his, like they're a real couple. "Now, let's go and get our intel."


	8. necessary friction

**major season five spoilers**

* * *

necessary friction

"Between our skins is a necessary friction / that separates us forever." —Arkaye Kierulf, from _'The End'_

* * *

It becomes clear, when the other paladins amble to their feet and Shiro does not, that something is wrong.

Granted, Allura already knew something was wrong. Shiro is hardly ever angry, never snappish, never pulls rank. True, the pressure is intense with arguably the highest stakes they've ever faced, but she does not understand why it turns them against each other so completely. She thinks that perhaps, like his decision to rescue her from Zarkon's central command so long ago, perhaps she was not simply around in other moments they would have butted heads. And things have cooled down now, with Lotor's help in ushering in stability, even if half the empire rages, torn between their new emperor, their old ways of conquest and their own bid for power. That, and what to do about all the Galra colonies on conquered planets, and where all the Galra will go without a homeworld, but...

Allura's heart was light, returning from Oriande, content that things, for once, were continuing to go her way. Lotor had been a little quiet on the way back, she had also been speechless, veins airy and bones made of stardust from the wonders of connecting with her ancestors. There are no ways to describe it. She is sure Lotor is just similarly speechless.

Yet when Shiro keels over sideways, her heart gives out. The other paladins are still in the process of rising, but Pidge stoops low over the Black Paladin, young face scrunched in worry as she attempts to heft him up, her small hands under one arm. She sags under his weight.

"Shiro?" Pidge says. "Shiro, come on."

His eyes open blearily but panicked, wheezes scraping against in his throat in a hoarse breath as he throws Pidge off and she stumbles a little. His skin has a blue tinge and it's not just because of the bridge lighting, the power now fully back on, even if it will take longer for the rest of the castle to follow suit after being completely powered down.

It takes Allura a moment, but then she remembers how he nearly suffocated in a Galra escape pod, before Keith and the Black Lion had found him floating aimlessly. He's having a panic attack with very little air in his lungs, and her insides twist painfully, thinking of every second she'd meandered back on Oriande, blinded by the beauty and forgetting the team she'd left behind.

Allura drops to her knees beside him, shooing away the team when they crowd around. "Give him space!" she commands. Lotor is the only one who doesn't take a step back, having never moved forward, but she's too worried to think about that right now, hands grabbing Shiro's arm. "Shiro, _Shiro_ , look at me."

It feels like the first time he's listened to her in forever, his wild eyes finding hers, and something sinks in his chest, whether it's fear or more air, she can't sure, but he does relax under her touch, under her gaze. A blush creeps over his face as any hint of blue fades, but his breath is still ragged and deep, gasping at air. There's a yellow gleam in his eyes she's never seen before. It looks so much like Haggar's glowing ones, and a spark of discomfort prickles at the back of Allura's neck, but she does not look away.

Shiro needs her right now. And as much as it has been frustrating to admit it when they no longer work in tandem as they used to, she still needs him.

"Breathe, Shiro," she coaxes, keeping her voice gentle. "It's alright. I'm here. You're okay."

His fingers weekly grasp at her elbow, but at least he's moving. "You were gone for so long," he rasps.

Her throat tightens. It's the closest thing she's gotten to an _I missed you_ since he disappeared, since she thought she would have to live with a hollow ache in her chest forever, an ache that only deepened and simmered, no longer white hot, once he returned, but returned not the same.

"I know," she says. She wants to cry, even if she hates the way her voice wants to break. "I'm sorry. I'm here now." She rubs her hand up and down his arm once, where flesh meets metal, in a manner she hopes is soothing, before she looks away from him. "Coran, get the cryopods going."

Whatever negative affects humans may face from oxygen deprivation or panic attacks, she doesn't want to know; not if they can be taken away.

Coran snaps to attention. "Yes, princess." His mustache curves downwards alongside his mouth. "But you know as well as I do the castle is rebooting, and the cryopods are the last thing to come online."

It is one of the downsides of the cryopods, a result of them being able to stay online long after the rest of the castleship was shut down—and despite being what allowed Allura to survive her 10,000 year stasis, she resents it. Shiro needs a cryopod now, not in two or more _varga_ s.

"Fine," she bites out, sullen. Even if there is nothing more she can do but stay here with him, closest to where the newly minted oxygen will be flooding the castle, she doesn't have to like it. "I will stay with him. I expect the rest of you to help Coran reboot the castle. I do not think it is wise to spend more time here than we need to."

Hunk nods, and Lance says, still breathless but trying for bravado, "You can count on us, princess."

Lotor smiles when Allura's eyes go to him, polite and composed. "What shall you have me do, princess?"

Allura arches an eyebrow. "I've already told you," she says. If Lotor is going to be staying with them longterm, until he can return home to his own ship, he can only expect to be treated like anyone else, can't he?

Lotor's smile flickers so quickly she can't tell if it did at all, as he heads out the main exit of the bridge along with the rest of the paladins and Coran.

For a moment, Allura worries about being alone with Shiro. There's so many memories on this bridge. Their first meeting; planning strategy; his thumb softly caressing the side of her palm, his eyes soft and concerned and telling her to get some rest, and she thought, perhaps he—; watching, helplessly, as Voltron and its paladins went silent until his voice crackled over the commlink. Watching him walk through the same doors the others had just left through, tired and with a new haircut, but here when she never thought he would be again, her heart swelling in her chest. Their argument, eyes flashing with raw mouths and pent up frustration until he stormed off.

The exhaustion of being in Voltron during the white lion's attack, and then her journey and trials in Oriande must finally be catching up to her, as Allura lets herself sink down next to him. Shiro's eyes are closed and his breathing has gone steady, but she knows he isn't asleep, even if his body desperately needs the rest. She knows she made the right decision in staying here with him, trained a little in first aid and if he needed to be moved somewhere, she was the only one strong enough to carry him, outside of Hunk, who they needed to help Pidge reboot all the modifiers they'd made over the past two years in space.

She thinks of Lotor, hovering, expectant. How when he smiles and believes in her, she wants to give in, even if his warmth is strangely cool. Wants to pretend it could become the steady heat Shiro offered her—with far less than Lotor has given her thus far, Shiro's affection shown through occasional glances and small smiles—before he had disappeared, and all her hopes for her heart with him.

Lotor is so much easier. But he doesn't make her heart twist in the same way, the way it does when she glances over at Shiro, snuffling beside her. When she'd seen him fall...

Allura sighs. With the way Shiro is acting now, clearly whatever had been growing between them has died, and it is foolish to hold on otherwise, and yet...

She lets her palm fall and curve lightly against his own, breath catching in her throat when Shiro's eyes open, his hand twitching. He can feel her hand there, perhaps an amendment for their argument she had not had time or the ability to swallow her pride for when he responded with hostility. She waits, not looking, to see if he will pull away, the same way he has every time she has tried to rekindle their easy companionship, their tandem teamwork, since Lotor came into their lives.

He doesn't.


	9. s5 shallurangst drabbles

A/N: a series of shallurangst drabbles posted to my tumblr over at shiroallura. do not all follow the same timeline, although many of them do fit together, the bottom three each individual takes of different possibilities set after s5. enjoy and maybe have tissues if you're weepy like me

* * *

 **constantly at** **odds**  
 _[set before 5x01]_

It was moments like these, preparing for new council meetings—even if the members were all holographic—that made Allura remember her first night, re-awoken in the castle, alone in this room and rebooting the system. The hum of the holoscreens under her fingers. The warmth on the second night when a sleepless Shiro, still decked out in paladin armour, had come to stand beside her, and ask what he could do to help.

"I'm no tech whiz," he said. "But maybe there's something I can do to help."

She'd smiled, appreciative as she knew how tired he must have been—freed from Galra captivity only a few days before—and politely sent him back to bed.

Now, Allura couldn't remember the last time she'd smiled at her co-leader. Granted, that was because it had been months since he'd disappeared after activating the Black Lion's wings, months since Keith had been forced to step in, months since she'd grinned, brimming, when Shiro had come to the team's rescue as the newly reinstated Black Paladin. Weeks since Naxzela, and Shiro had seemingly grown colder everyday. The first of their disagreements had been about Lotor, of where to put him and how to negotiate with him on board, but at least they could agree on something: the Galra prince was not to be trusted.

At least the latest target Lotor had offered, the Moon of Tragoch, was nearby.

"We could probably do the run tonight," Shiro said, joining her on the bridge.

Allura held back a frown. "We're all tired, Shiro. I think it would be best to wait until tomorrow when we're more well rested."

"But—"

"Besides, by allowing the workers to finish today, there are more sentries and materials that can be destroyed tomorrow."

That quieted him, and Shiro slowly nodded. "Very well, princess."

She sighed when he left, thinking longingly of a time when being around him had made her feel more awake, rather than more tired. Hopefully, they would start seeing eye-to-eye soon enough. (And maybe, although she nursed her heart like a bruise, they would be heart-to-heart again soon, too.)

* * *

 **pink  
** _[set during 5x06]_

It's when they're on Oriande, making their way to the mountain, that Allura finds Lotor's eyes on her, instead of the sunset coloured dreamworld around them. She's barely been able to tear her eyes away from the mountains and clouds and Altean markings, all remnants of her people long gone, and she wonders how long Oriande has been waiting for her, in 10,000 years of dust and soft static from her cyropod.

"What?" she asks, turning to him.

"Your armour," Lotor says, stepping closer. She hasn't had someone so frequently in her personal space in so long, and the way he looks at her makes simmered down warmth brim in her chest. "Pink is a mourning colour for our people, isn't it?"

She nods. In appearance Lotor does look more Altean than Galra, and whenever he demonstrates his knowledge of her people it makes her feel like he is truly one of them too, despite being the son of the man who slaughtered them.

"I wear it for my people," she explains.

Lotor's brow furrows. "I saw video-feeds of you before my father fell for the first time—your reputation has grown throughout every corner of the galaxy, and rightly so—but, correct me if I'm wrong, you did not wear it before?"

"Oh, well, yes…" A flush creeps over her markings, not only because of how much Lotor has been paying attention to her, but mostly because of the reason she donned the armour in the first place. She could have worn pink since emerging from the cryopod, but… "Truth be told, in the battle where your father first fell, we believed we lost Shiro."

She still remembers the ache that went through her, sharp and hollow when the Black Lion's cockpit had been empty. When she'd given up searching alongside the rest of the team to care for the cause Shiro had died for, to ensure he hadn't died in vain. When she'd realized the Blue Lion was calling to her, her breakdown in Red came crawling back and she knew there was only one colour to don when going out into battle the same way he had.

The crease in Lotor's brow deepens. She can't tell if he looks sad or just displeased. "I see." His voice is careful, and then smooth. "I suppose you got used to the colour, and wish to continue honouring your people, now that he has returned."

Allura smiles, strained, and glad when Lotor turns away. They are almost at the mountain and she can't tell if his implication was there or if she's reading into things too deeply. That if Lotor thinks that if the reason for her armour's colour has returned safe and sound, she should choose another colour. Perhaps even purple to signify their new alliance with the latest ruler of the Galra empire. It'd be logical.

Yet her heart twists when she thinks of choosing a different armour, even if Shiro does not understand the meaning of why she wears it. And he'd be upset if he knew why she still wears it now, and she does not want yet another argument between them.

The Shiro she knew and loved was patient and considerate, not angry or pulling rank. She was thrilled when Keith brought him home, but sometimes, when she looks in his eyes, it's like there's…nothing, there. It's like he's still missing. It's like he's still gone.

And here she is, still mourning him. Mourning them.

Allura clears her head and realizes she's lagging behind Lotor's pace. They don't have forever to spend here, with the castleship oxygen levels slowly depleting. She jogs to catch up.

Maybe soon, she can find some answers.

* * *

 **heartbreak  
** _[set sometime post-s5]_

Even Lotor's anger is cold, steely when he catches Allura watching Shiro leave the room, the Black Paladin not looking back, his jaw set. Lotor had thought once peace, however fragile, had been ushered in the princess and her paladin would stop disagreeing—which, so long as they both agreed with whatever Lotor wanted, would be good for him—but apparently not.

And more frustrating still, he now knew crystal clear as to why the princess had rebuffed his advances quintants ago, as she keeps her body turned to the spot Shiro had just left.

His voice is cutting ice, as he snaps, "How many times has he told you he doesn't love you?"

Allura's shoulders hunch, but she turns to face him anyway, forlorn. Surprisingly vulnerable, but he has spent enough time with her to know her infuriating habit of not budging—especially when it comes to things as ridiculous as feelings.

"He hasn't," she says. He only barely resists an eyeroll. He has to remain open, for his charade to work.

He takes a step forward, pins on an expression he imagines Shiro would have if the man wasn't always so angry. Shiro must have been soft once? Allura doesn't seem like the type to fall for a cold man. Perhaps that is why she hasn't fallen for him as much as Lotor had assumed, that she can sense his sharp edges underneath his overcoat.

"Princess—"

Allura steps away, rubbing her arm. "At least, not in words," she says quietly. She looks at the doorway Shiro has just left, but Lotor knows she will not be following him. She's brave, but not a masochist. "Goodnight, Lotor."

He lets her leave, thinking it's vaguely unfair that Shiro got to break her heart first, and he doesn't even know it.

* * *

 **just a little longer _  
_** _[post s5, hypothetical take on s6_ —separate from the next writing piece _]_

Shiro—real Shiro, as Lance had affectionately called him—has been back for three weeks, and he knows it's no coincidence that Allura hasn't looked him in the eye since. He knows how strange it must be, to be around a stranger with his face, but Kuron—now renamed Ryou—is sweet in his own way and off helping the rebellion once everything had calmed down. The rest of the team, Keith included, as welcomed Shiro back with open arms.

So why hasn't Allura? His last clear memory of her is the flood of relief when he realized she hadn't died in the Galra attack at all, even with her scream echoing in his ears. A sense of her self in the void, a rush of pride mingled with confusion that she's in Blue. He know she's been betrayed before—her father's corrupted A.I., Lotor (apparently)—but… she doesn't think he has betrayed her, does she?

He catches her on her way out of the bridge mid-afternoon, and when she goes to pass him without sparing him a glance, grabs her hand before he can think it through too much. "Princess, wait," he requests quietly. She looks at him, her brow uncreased, face young and soft, but there's a guardedness in her eyes. She's never looked at him like that before. "You've been avoiding me. Can you… can you tell me why?"

She stays silent long enough that he realizes he's caught her hand all wrong, one of her fingers and thumb not held in his, and realizes this was stupid. So long as they can work together, nothing else matters. And he was gone for so long. And then Ryou… of course she'll need time to adjust. And she might be worried he expects something, since before he disappeared, they— _I didn't want to leave you,_ he wants to cry out, thinking of the one soft kiss they'd shared, before everything went to hell. _I wanted to stay more than anything. I wanted to stay. With_ you _._

He lets her hand go before he can do anymore damage. He's hurt her enough, hasn't he?

But she grabs his wrist when he turns to leave and tugs her back to him, her azure eyes avoiding his. She's chewing her bottom lip, looking like she's trying to fit words in her mouth.

"Please," she manages. "Just…stay a little longer. I need time to think of…" She sighs, her brow furrowing, but he lets himself stand there. Appreciates the warmth of her hand on his wrist. "Of what to say," she finally finishes, her eyes flickering up to his. They're less guarded.

"Of course, princess," he says, wriggling his wrist out of her grip so he can hold her hand the way he had so long ago on this bridge, but this time, he intertwines their fingers. He is never leaving her again. And maybe in time, she can believe it. "As long as you need."

* * *

 **find someone to take my place  
** _[post s5, during a headcanoned s6]_

Saying goodbye to Kuron was a curious thing, as Allura stood in the hangar of the castleship as the team filtered out one by one. They'd grown to love Kuron in their own way of course, enough that goodbyes were necessary now that the man was leaving to work with Matt and the Rebellion. Even Shiro, now that he was back and safe and out of the cryopods for a few days, had hugged him, his compassion overcoming any unease that could have easily existed knowing he had a clone who had accidentally impersonated him for the last five months.

Still, she stood here, not sure what to do with her hands or how exactly to say goodbye, even though she knew she needed to.

Kuron made the choice for both of them, extending his hand. "I'm sure I'll be seeing you and everyone else soon enough." The resistance had plans, coordinated by Matt, to meet up with them on the twin moon of a fog planet in the Q84-quadrant in a few weeks time.

Allura shook his hand, revelling in the fact contact with him no longer sent dulled sparks up her arm the way it had before. Now that she knew why. "Travel safely, Kuron," she said, giving him a small but sincere smile.

Kuron stepped towards the shuttle, and then turned back towards her. There was an unreadable look on his face, but clearly he was teetering on the edge of saying something, and Allura watched him cautiously. What could wait to only be said between the two of them? She blushed when she remembered Kuron had had Shiro's memories, those now fading away that he had plenty of his own, but...

Finally, Kuron spoke. "He loves you, you know."

Her eyes widened. _What?_ Who—? It couldn't be—

"Shiro," Kuron continued, when she stayed silent and slack jawed. "He loves you." Kuron glanced down. "That's why I thought I did, before." He looked back up at her. "Princess, may I make a recommendation?"

Her throat was too tight to speak on part of her heart being lodged in it. How was this possible? How could Kuron know? And how could he not know? He had always spoken what he thought to be the truth, even if it hadn't actually been. Perhaps this was one of those times. Because Shiro couldn't. He couldn't love her the way she loved him. No matter how much she had let herself dare to wish for such a thing, before his disappearance.

She realized Kuron was still watching for a reaction—for permission—and managed a tiny nod, her mind still racing in an attempt to process everything. The sound of her heart pounding in her ears didn't help matters.

"Tell him this time, before you almost lose him again."

Allura couldn't find anything to say, but Kuron merely nodded, accepting her silence and boarded the shuttle. She finally shook herself straight and got out of the hangar so he could leave, even if his words hadn't. Shiro loved her?

"Princess?"

Her foolish fluttering heart responded to the timbre of Shiro's voice, similar but different enough compared to Kuron's now that she had heard them side by side, and she turned, hastily composing her features into something she hoped looked less shocked when she found Shiro in front of her now. His paladin helmet was tucked under his arm and there was a mild look of concern on his face.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, stepping closer. She had yearned and mourned and ached for him for so long, it was almost overwhelming to be in his presence now. To know that he really was her Shiro, home and safe at last. "I didn't expect you to still be here. I wanted to make sure Kuron took off safely."

Allura managed to school her face into something more relaxed. "Yes," she said, forcing a smile. "He took off just fine." Shiro's expression didn't change now, and she knew he was now concerned about her. Maybe he always had been, and his line about his new twin had nearly been a guise. Allura took a quick deep breath, and then a chance, even if it was a small one. "Thank you for checking up on me, Shiro. I appreciate your concern."

He blinked, and then smiled, and some of her nerves melted away. "You're welcome, princess."

"And I wanted to speak with you," she said quickly. "A-about our strategies going forward, before we meet up with the rebels."

Shiro's smile softened. "Of course, princess. Should we go to the bridge?" He chuckled a little. "Like old times?"

She smiled back, wide and brimming. "I suppose we should," she said, almost unable to believe her own happiness. _Like old times_. And this time, as she looped her arm around Shiro's as they walked away, she knew that regardless of whether Kuron had been right or not, this time would be different.


	10. where's my love (s6 speculation)

where's my love?

S6 speculation; Allura doesn't want to believe Lotor's right about Shiro, until he is. / tw: some violence in this one / title from "where's my love?" by SYML

* * *

When Lotor draws his sword out and raises it towards Shiro— _the witch sees through his eyes, or are you all too blind to see it_ —all Allura sees is red. Damn Oriande, damn his Altean lineage, and damn his empire, she decides, as she marches forwards the catches the blade before it can come down on Shiro's neck with her bare hands. The blade slices up her palms and while Lotor is strong, she is full Altean and far stronger, and wrenches it out of his grip with a growl. It doesn't take long after that for Lotor to be subdued by the the rest of the team. While Coran leads the way in bringing Lotor back to his prison in the deep recesses of the castle, Allura ignores her bloodied palms and looks at where Shiro had curled up on the ground, shell-shocked.

"Shiro?" she says softly, slowly moving towards him; she doesn't want to startle him. "Shiro, are you alright?"

He presses his palms firmly over his eyes for a long moment, before he moved his hands away and looks up at her with a dulled gaze. His face is stony. "I'm fine."

It's not lost on her that once upon a time, before his disappearance, or hell even before Lotor presented himself as an ally (a backstabber she knows now, just like his father) that his tone wouldn't have been quite as sharp. That Shiro might have even sought comfort in her, or at least reassurance. But now, he pushes himself to his feet and looks at her like he isn't quite sure what to say, like he doesn't even really want to look at her.

"Thank you," he says at last, "for saving my life."

Her throat tightens, but Allura nods. "Of course," she says quietly.

He looks at her hands, and then where the cryopods would rise up from the floor, and does he remember, Allura wonders. Does she remember her distaste for cryopods, after her father locked her away in one for 10,000 years? Why she has Coran clean them every time they need to for maintenance, because she can't not bring herself too close to them or less her hands shake? Does he remember, and will he be gentle with it?

Shiro swallows. "C'mon," he says stepping closer to her. "Let's get your hands bandaged up, before we deal with Lotor."

She blinks, but nods. It's been phoebs (the earthling equivalent being called 'months,' Allura had learned) since he'd patched her up from a mission, which had still only happened sparingly before his disappearance (whenever he'd noticed she was hurt at all). He'd understood what it was like to be terrified in ways that were simultaneously rational and irrational all at once. He'd understood... he had understood so well. It has been so long since he's been _gentle_ with her, she tries not to read too much into his offer. He likely feels obliged to. She did save him, after all.

She wonders if he still knows she'd bleed for him as many times as she had to, even if he didn't say thank you afterwards.

Blue healing paste makes the cuts on her hands glow, and then fade, before she washes them off with Shiro standing over her shoulder in the castle's small med bay. She's drying them off when Shiro speaks into the commlink. "You got him locked up?" he checks, and then a pause as one of the paladins responds. "Okay good, we're on our way."

Allura looks at him as she takes her hands away from the hand drier. "Lotor's secure?" she asks.

Shiro nods. "Figured we have to plan our next steps. I mean, our alliance with him may not be the same, but he's still the ruler of the Galra empire. We can't throw away all the peace he's brought."

She frowns, and she can Shiro holding back a flinch as she slowly raises her hand towards him, but his expression settles willingly and she rests a hand on the side of his neck. "I do not like the idea of working with him any longer," she says, her voice a little tight. She can't believe she had trusted the prince for so long. "Anyone who tries to kill my paladins is not welcome here." She lets her hand drop when Shiro makes no sign he appreciates having it there, and disappointment curdles in her stomach even as she pushes it away. "But you are right," she reluctantly admits, even if it feels good to be agreeing with him again. "We must figure out where we go from here."

"Princess," he says, once he has turned away, and she is torn of whether to look at him or not. His voice is almost gentle. "I'm glad you're alright."

She smiles softly as she looks back at him. "I'm glad you are safe as well, Shiro." She breathes a bit easier when he falls into step with her, like old times, as they make strides out of the med bay to the prison lockdown. "Now come on. Let's see what Lotor has to say for himself."

* * *

Not much, it turns out. Lotor has nothing to offer but paranoid babbling and rage at being locked up again, and more accusations towards Shiro, until Allura firmly cuts him off and coldly forces the discussion into the terms upon which he'll be released, and how their alliance may go forward with him as an emperor, but hardly as a friend. Lotor grumbles but agrees, but she won't let her guard down again. He will say and do whatever he has to, to be let out of his cell. Nothing he says can be trusted, much less the wild accusation that Shiro is a spy for _Haggar_. Lotor's distrust of the alchemist is not lost on her, and she does not whether Lotor is playing a long game, hoping to cozy up to her because he knows her relationship with Shiro is strained, or that he thinks himself as Black Paladin like his father, but whatever the reason, she knows it is nothing but lies.

True, Shiro has not been like himself lately, arguing with her and the team the way he has, but she cannot wholly fault him for it. Who knows what he went through, during his second imprisonment? Sometimes she still feels the cold of Zarkon's central command wrap around her bones when she cannot sleep, and she had only been there for less than a quintant. She can't imagine what it must be like, being a prisoner for a year only to be recaptured for another six months after that. That, and if she cannot trust Shiro, then who can she, when he has always been on her side from the very beginning, extending aid and understanding and faith? Or at least... he used to.

In the days following Lotor's betrayal, things are better between. Shiro joins her on the bridge a little more to discuss plans, stands closer to her, is a little less gruff. She knew Lotor had driven a wedge between them, but now she wonders just how deep the rift caused by him was. Shiro hadn't seemed as different—still distant, but understandable—until he showed up. Whatever happened, Allura is glad that it's in the past now and they can move forward... and if she lets her foolish heart hope again, hopefully together again, too.

So things are going okay, hesitantly so, when Lotor is released from his cell and glares daggers at Shiro as he uses the commlink to bring his central command to the castleship to pick him up. Allura is glad to see him go, relieved when the Galra empire doesn't declare war on them (again) and that it seems like their alliance, despite being shaky, will hold steadfast all the same. It's a worthy trade for Shiro's life and for him coming back to her piece by piece, now.

Until Lotor comes back weeks later, boarding their ship under the guise of a diplomatic conference and a smug look on his face, and shatters it with a single phrase: "Operation Kuron, enact stage five."

Shiro's eyes are full of cold yellow light when he turns and stalks towards her, and her heart fractures. "Shiro?" He looks so much like the nightmare images Haggar had conjured up in the hangars of Zarkon's central command, so long ago. Only this isn't a nightmare. Isn't an illusion.

Her throat tightens when she hears the paladins summon their bayards around her, wondering whether hers will appear without her paladin armour on—if she would be able to raise her whip against him even if it could. She throws a glare at Lotor, as Shiro's moving slowly, prowling like a predator about to pounce.

"What the quiznak have you done to him?" she demands. Magic and rage fizzles under her fingertips. Oh, she will make Lotor regret ever showing her Oriande.

"Nothing the witch hasn't already implemented," Lotor says smoothly. "I managed to hunt her down and after some... negotiating, she surrendered her secrets." His smirk fades. "Since you would not take my word for it, I had to take matters into my own hand, princess. Is this the Black Paladin you want? One who is nothing more than a _puppet_?"

"Well you've shown us!" she snaps. "Now turn him back!"

Lotor's expression falters. "I, uh..." he stammers for the first time since she met him, and she sees red, practically seething.

"You mean you did not check how to turn him back?!" She wants to throttle him. Shiro has been through so much—how much more must he suffer at the hands of the Galra royal family?

Their shouting makes Shiro's head tilt, and his slowness stops, and he pounces. Allura swivels just in time, glad she had the foresight to have her hair in a bun and her commander outfit on, and Pidge raises their whip, lassoing it around Shiro's legs like a pro. His hand glows purple and swings down, sending shockwaves along the whip-line and picks it apart easily, tossing Pidge off to the side like she weighs nothing.

Lance and Hunk move forward next, hesitantly raising her guns, and she hears them both adjust the settings to _stun_ instead of kill. "Do not harm him," Allura orders, even if she knows she should probably be worrying about the opposite, but she can't help it. There is no human emotion in Shiro's face, smoothed over like stone, his eyes glowing yellow with quintessence, but she knows how human he is underneath. How wonderfully human he was when he used to—

Shiro moves faster than she would have thought possible for someone of his size, going right up to the nozzle of Lance's gun and wrenching it out of the paladin's grip, elbowing him across the face hard enough to crack the face mask of his helmet. Lance stumbles and Shiro dodges Hunk's blast at his back just in time, and Lance crumples to the floor, eyes closed. Pidge comes up from behind and leaps, wrapping her arms over his head, and Hunk readies another blast, but Shiro rips her off him and uses her as a shield from the stun ray and drops her unceremoniously head first on the floor.

Allura can hear Hunk gulp. "Uh, Allura?" he says. "What do we do?"

She turns her steely gaze on Lotor and Coran. Perhaps one of them knows something. Lotor takes out his sword but Coran wrestles it away, thank the Ancients, and kicks him forward and Lotor back-pedals hard when he accidentally bumps into Shiro, before clearing his throat and puffing out his chest importantly. "Android, I command you to stop—"

Shiro swipes him aside with one back hand hit of his hand, like he's nothing. Lotor crashes into one of the bridge's keyboards hard enough that the screens and buttons crack under him. In the time Allura has watched him fall, Shiro and Hunk have started wrestling for the yellow paladin's gun, both of them grunting while Pidge and Lance stir feebly on the floor.

Allura shakes herself straight. She has to do something, no matter how much she doesn't want to. She crashes between the two paladins, taking Shiro by surprise and using her strength to overpower his and shove the gun back into Hunk's hands. Her hands find Shiro's and they grapple, each trying to push back on each other's strength, and she remembers when his hands used to hold hers, gently. Beads of sweat form on her brow, and she wonders if it's the intensity of her muscles that's getting warmer, or that his arm is heating up under her grip and any second now he'll burn her terribly.

"Shiro," she pants, pleads, gritting her teeth and staring into his cold yellow eyes. "Please." She has to get through to him, somehow. Her arms bend under his, slightly. When had he gotten so strong? How long did she have? She can see Coran and Hunk helping Pidge and Lance up from the floor out of the corner of her eye, even Lotor emerging from his cracked panels. "Shiro," she tries again, softer, begging. His hardened expression, face screwed up in anger, softens just a fraction. Allura sucks in a tight breath. It's working.

She musters up her strength and shoves him backwards just as his arm lights up, and he slides across the floor on his feet, before looking up at her. Before his rage can come back, she walks towards him, keeping her arms lowered. "Please, my love," she begs, ignoring the sob that rises in her throat; she hasn't used that nickname for him in so long, hasn't heard it fall from his lips since before his disappearance. "Come back to me."

Shiro's eyes narrow, as though studying her as he lets her approach, his chest rising and falling. It is working, and she's going to—His hands wrap around her throat and the shock overtakes her as he squeezes, and her hands uselessly try to pry his away from her narrow windpipe before there's a beam of light behind him. Shiro's grip loosens and she falls to her feet, gasping, as he lurches onto his knees. Lance and Hunk still both have their smoking guns raised, even after the light of the stun beam has faded.

Allura manages to find her voice and blink back tears, after quickly massaging her throat. "We must get him into a cell," she rasps. Coran's hand is steady on her shoulder as he helps her up.

"Princess," he begins, with that familiar concerned note in her throat, but she brushes him off.

"And Lotor into a cryopod," she continues, straightening up. "Lance, go get cuffs for... for Shiro. Hunk, you can carry him to the cell." She glances at Pidge, who's eyes are glassy. "Is everyone alright?"

"You mean beyond finding out that Shiro is..." Hunk trails off, frowning. "Yeah, everyone's fine."

"Good," she says decidedly. "Now let's go, before he wakes up."

* * *

The team asks no questions, afterwards. Lotor is incensed to be a prisoner for the third time, locked away in a cell separate from Shiro's, and Shiro—his yellow eyes still have not faded once he awoke, screaming in rage and pounding at the walls of his cell. Allura forced herself to look at him even as the others turned away, despite how much she wanted to join him. She'd find a way to fix this, but... her stomach twists every time she thinks of what Haggar has done to him, of his hands threatening to burn her, of his hands wrapped around her throat and squeezing squeezing _squeezing_ —

Coran finds her on the bridge that night, long after a half-hearted dinner she had barely touched before retreating, not wanting to see the way the other paladins had looked at her. The glances and whispers they'd exchanged while walking together and she walked silently with Coran. _My love_ — _do you think?_ — _what are we going to do?_

 _I don't know_ , she wants to say. She's not used to this chasm; whenever she hadn't known, Shiro always had, and now he was—

She blinks back tears when she hears Coran walk up beside her. He says nothing, until she turns towards him and opens up his arms. Allura falls into them gratefully, clinging to him like a little girl as gives into the ache inside her, tears blurring her vision. "We—" she starts, still choking back a sob.

Coran shushes her. How much had he suspected, and when? When Shiro had come to save her, when she had blindly trusted him? "I know," Coran says softly. "We'll get him back."

Allura tries to believe him. Tries not to give into the worst thoughts, that what Lotor and Haggar have done is irreversible, that Shiro will never be the same, will never love her again, that he will keep on breaking her heart, once, twice, three times.

She just wants to stop wondering where her love has gone.


	11. endless distraction, you worry me (s5)

endless distraction, you worry me

 **Summary:** Coran and Shiro have a conversation. —set during 5x05, when coran and kuron/shiro are downloading their database with the galra and allura and lotor are off in haggar's lair. title from "10am gare du nord" by keaton henson

* * *

The records room was smaller than Shiro had expected. He had expected larger, more grand, for the housing of all the current galra troop locations. Lotor's tapestries in the main throne room and general air about him had made it clear he had a flair for the dramatic, especially through visuals. Yet the galra record room had screens and buttons that blinked like any other would, if less dusty and with a red tint instead of perpetual purple.

It made it easier to stand being on a galra ship again for longer than a mission, where the adrenaline helped him ward off things he would prefer to forget. There was nothing but a slow crawl up his consciousness now, as he made his way to the central command keyboard and started typing. His ears grounded themselves in the sound of Coran coming up behind him.

"So," Coran said, his tone torn between prompt and hesitant, "Lotor and the princess, eh?"

Shiro focused on typing in the proper coordinates, correlating the first star chart that came to mind, of the system where the Olkari lived as Voltron's HQ, and then looked to see whichever galra troops were closest to it. Lotor may have been emperor now, but factions of the empire were still warring, and he couldn't afford to let his guard down now. None of them could.

Including Allura, even if sometimes he worried she was forgetting that.

"I don't know what you mean, Coran," he said, rather shortly.

"Pish-posh, of course you know what I mean. Those two off in Haggar's lair together—"

"I have my own agenda to attend to," Shiro said, and Coran seemed to realize what he had said.

"Oh, right. Of course, Shiro, you would not wish to—after what she did—" Coran paused and stroked his mustache. "What I meant merely, is that if I've noticed Lotor and the princess growing closer then _you_ certainly have as well."

This time, Shiro did look at him, his grey eyes narrowed. "And what is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"I may be old, but my eyes still work perfectly well, Shiro. I saw how close you and the princess were, before your... disappearance. I wouldn't blame you if it bothered you. I certainly don't trust Lotor."

"I trust him as much as I need to," said Shiro, turning back to his work, already feeling anger churn in his veins.

He hated having such a short fuse. He hadn't been like this before, and never with Allura. It was true and the princess had been close before his disappearance, and as fuzzy as those memories could be sometimes—damn the Galra for messing with his brain, again—the general shape of them was soft and warm, and only sharp with concern.

"And in regards to the princess," he added after a moment's pause, "I know she can handle herself and keep her head on straight." He thought bitterly back to their argument about the Kral Zera. "Clearly she isn't too keen to trust Lotor without reason."

"Mmhm," Coran hummed. "I'm merely saying, it's alright if it bothers you. Things have been tense lately, and, well I noticed you haven't exactly... been yourself as of late. I know you and Allura both have a lot of pressure on your shoulders, the despite the state between you two, she can understand what you may be going through better than anyone. You would do well to confide in her, if need be."

Shiro sighed and focused on his work. "I don't need to—Coran, I'm fine. The galaxy is fine and the war is nearly over. Lotor is emperor and I'm glad that he and Allura getting along—" He ignored the sharp ache that flared in his chest; no matter, he'd gotten good at lying about being okay in prison. He hoped his pause hadn't been too noticeable. "—because the opposite would be far more difficult, and things are finally starting to go more smoothly. I'm fine."

Coran hummed again, and finally turned to one of the keyboards to start typing in coordinates himself. "Of course. I'm also here, if you'd like."

Shiro sighed again, but pursed his lips; he could feel a headache coming on. "Thank you, Coran," he said stiffly, glad the conversation was over. And maybe a little sad too, because now no one was going to check if he was okay again, likely for a long time.

But it was better this way. Because if someone asked him if he was okay, he honestly wouldn't know what to say, anymore.


	12. astronomy in reverse (post-s6 drabble)

astronomy in reverse

 **Summary:** "...it was me who was discovered."—Venus, Sleeping At Last / post s6, Shiro and Allura adjust to his new hair.

* * *

They don't have a castle to go back to now, and Shiro sleeps in the back of the Black Lion the entire way back to the nearest inhabited and coalition friendly planet, something that had been reduced to little more than a moon. Allura can feel the exhaustion clinging to her bones—she's grown greatly in her alchemic powers, of course, but she had never used them so much in so little time, and with so much on the line—and her fingers itch with the incessant need to do something more than fly. She knows that Shiro—captured, broken, saved, paladin, leader, lost, found and lost, and finally found again— _you found me_ —is safe under Keith's weary and watchful eyes, but she knows she won't truly be able to relax.

Her mind isn't racing anymore, as they finally make the final stretch of the journey to a nearby forest moon, and find refuge, but her heart is still aching. Lotor is most likely dead in the quintessence field, if one can die there. The castleship is gone. Her team is alive. Shiro is too. He's alive and he never betrayed them after all.

She remembers the tendrils of his soul, as she drew him out of the Black Lion; they had been warm and weighted, steadying even as she felt like her body would burst with the energy of it. He has always been the most powerful paladin, she knows. He would have to be, to be able to fully defeat Zarkon for the Black Lion, for his soul to last as long as it did in the Black Lion's consciousness.

In Olkarion Shiro is situated in a room between her and Keith's, in case he needs his brother or more healing. No one has ever had their soul put into a new body, or survived in a Lion's astral plane, and Allura thinks—knows—that Shiro has already suffered far, far more than anyone ever deserves to. She wishes she knew what to predict. What to tell him.

Well, there is one thing, but she knows now is not the time for it. To express her sadness over Lotor, her regret, to remember the moment she and Shiro had shared before they went off to a battle and said they would talk about things once he came back, only for him to never do so. And then his clone had been different, standoffish, and Lotor seemingly so easy and…

If there is one thing she's done right in all the time her Black Paladin had been missing, it was keeping the coalition alive in his memory, and bringing him home.

And despite telling him to rest upon his waking, she finds herself restless that first night. How could she not be, with all that has happened? With all they still have to accomplish? The Galra without an emperor and set to descend again into chaos, and who knew what Haggar was up to, or Sendak, and Lotor's generals. Her breath grows heavy in her throat, and then she grows parched, and she is padding over to the small kitchen they have for a glass of water when she hears a thud from Shiro's room, and her heart thuds to a stop in her chest.

She abandons her quest and touches the panel by his door, her hand signature going through with a faint glow and his door slides open, purposefully dim light flooding the room so as to not overwhelm the eyes. "Shiro?"

He's lying on his back on the floor, almost like a shelled creature Hunk had shown her pictures of once, of a turtle. His face is pained and his shoulders jerking upwards uselessly, with only one arm to try and push himself up. She supposes even in the arena there were very few moments he didn't have a prosthetic, but there was nothing they could give him on such short notice. The inhabitants of the moon planet had six arms, and none of their prosthetics would fit earthlings.

She wonders if he was having a nightmare, or simply tried to get out of bed, as she helps him off the floor and sets him down on the bed. The guest rooms they've been given are nice, with en suite bathrooms and dressers, and a mirror above the one she and Shiro are sitting opposite of, as she takes a seat next to him. "Shiro, are you alright?"

His voice is still rough from disuse, his gaze still weary, but kind. Familiar. Home. "I'm fine. I'm just not used to the weight distribution being uneven. And… having a body agan, I guess.

Allura purses her lips, and then sees the way his eyes linger on his reflection in the mirror. He runs his human hand through his hair half heartedly, his tuft falling back over his eyes. "I did not know you hair would turn white," she reveals.

He drops his hand, and for a moment she thinks he's going to place it on her shoulder, before he seems to think better of it and it lands on his thigh instead. He looks at her instead of the mirror. "It's alright." He smiles faintly. "It'll take some getting used to, but I'm just happy to be alive right now."

"I'm happy you are too," she says quietly, clasping her hands together in her lap.

He's silent for a moment, and then says, "I'm sorry."

Her brow furrows. "About what?"

"I have his… the clone's memories. He fought with you. Disobeyed you." Shiro swallows. "Attacked you with the black bayard—"

Allura places a hand on his shoulder. "He wasn't you."

"But you thought—"

"No, I didn't. I knew something was wrong. Deep down, I knew he wasn't…" Wasn't the man she had fallen in love with. "And he only started acting that way once Lotor showed up, remember?" Her voice hardens slightly. Lotor always ruins _everything_.

The corner of Shiro's mouth twitches upwards. "Yeah, there are some things I'm glad I only had to watch secondhand. More quickly." At her raised brow he elaborates, and a pink tinge colours his cheeks. "Your courtship with Lotor. Still, I—I wish I had been there for you."

"I wish I had been able to help you sooner," she says softly. Her other hand takes his. "If there is one good Lotor did, it was helping me find the tools to save you. That's what really matters."

Shiro squeezes her fingers and it feels like them, again. She hasn't felt that in so long, tears prick at her eyes. "You don't know how glad I am," he says. "That you're the one thing that hasn't changed."

Her heart swells. "And I never will." Their eyes meet, and she knows she's staring but he is too, and they both really shouldn't be—it's too soon, they both need time to slow down and—so her eyes tick upwards and focus on the only tuft of his hair that used to be white. "Your hair," she says, almost numbly, and he jerks his gaze away from her eyes. "Are you going to style it the way you used to?"

He shrugs with shoulders pinned with uneven weight; they haven't found time to find or build him a prosthetic, but Allura knows she, and Hunk and Pidge, and the Olkari most likely, will be working on it soon enough. "Maybe once I get a new arm. It was something I kinda needed two hands to do."

Allura withdraws both her hands. "I could do it for you." She licks her lips, nervous, because what if this was a stupid suggestion? Surely he has a million more important things running through his mind. "So that one more thing may stay the same."

Shiro smiles, so warm and radiant, she almost doesn't know what to do. "I'd like that." He gets up to his en suite bathroom and finds a strange alien razor, but it'll do the trick, as he sits back down and sits behind him, their reflections overlapping in the mirror. "Thank you, princess."

She focuses on carefully shearing away his hair into a perfect undercut, and his smile stays, and his eyes stay on her in the mirror until she's finished.


	13. i'll follow all the way to the sun

i'll follow all the way to the sun

 **Summary:** Following his return, Shiro and Allura fall back together. [MASSIVE S6 SPOILERS]

* * *

Allura's eyes keep straying to where Shiro lies, now cradled between the Black Lion's paws, sleeping and looking undeniably different but more at peace than she had ever seen him. She and the other Paladins know their Lions are drained, but staying this close to the Rift in fairly empty space for too long isn't a good idea either. They still have enemies, and without the castleship, they're down a defense and without a clear refuge. Their Lions can fly far, and she can summon a wormhole without the castleship although it will be more draining, and she thinks the only reason the team is sitting here discussing their options instead of leaping into action—finally, Keith says, "I guess our best chance is to fly to the closest inhabited planet, and then make our way to Olkarion once we have a big enough ship to hold the lions,"—is to give _her_ a chance to rest, too.

She's never used her powers so much or so strongly, and while they didn't drain her in the Rift, surrounded by quintessence, she can feel her alchemy taking its toll on her now. Holding and transferring another person's soul, no matter how strong or sweet that person's soul is, is taxing work, not that Allura would take it back for a second. They have Shiro, their Shiro, back now. That's worth more than every star in the galaxy, after everything they've lost and suffered. After all the mistakes she made.

She should have known the clone wasn't him. She should have known Lotor couldn't be trusted. She should have fought harder against the clone to keep him from taking Lotor, she should have—

Lance's hand falls on her shoulder, his blue eyes uncharacteristically tired, pinched. Perhaps his feelings for her are still there, and perhaps, she hopes, even if it hurts, he has learned to let them go, in this mess of madness. "You ready to go, princess?"

Allura pushes herself to her feet. "Yes, of course." She looks at their cobbled together collection: a missing Blade, weary paladins, a lost Altean, the second closest thing she's ever had to a father. They'll all need rides, and for their two new members, they need sanctuary. "Krolia, Romelle, I assume you would prefer to ride with Keith?"

Krolia might be hardened enough to be fine with anything, even if she'd surely prefer to stay by her son's side, but Romelle feels like more a lost yupper who's already used up all her bravery, in fleeing her colony and Lotor's grip, being attacked and evacuating the castleship. Her pigtails don't help in making her look more mature. And four people, if Shiro goes with them, even in a cockpit as big as the Black Lion's will be a little crowded.

"We don't have a preference," Krolia says, standing beside the Altean girl.

"What about Shiro?" Keith asks from his mother's other side.

"He can ride with me," Allura says. Maybe it's a little selfish. Maybe she should volunteer to take Romelle and Krolia herself, but... she knows if she's alone in her Lion she'll cry, and if she doesn't have Shiro with her, she'll cry, and she really, really doesn't want to cry anymore than she already has.

She thinks at first that Keith is going to protest, when he opens her mouth—please, please don't let this be another argument between them where he just won't _listen_ to her side of things—but then he swallows and nods. "Alright." Clearly he's tired too.

Allura goes over to the Black Lion, hears it thrum in the back of its throat. She had 10,000 years alongside its quintessence in the castle, but somehow none of that, not even bonding with Blue, had prepared her for being so attached to the Lion's quintessence in order to save Shiro. She wonders if she'll ever be able to separate herself, now. She lifts Shiro up bridal style, braces herself for his weight and then gets him settled, cradling his metal shoulder against her chest, his flesh arm dangling over hers.

She carries him over to the Blue Lion, Keith watching over her shoulder. She knows that the Red Paladin understands better than anyone the need to not let Shiro out of their sight when they just, _finally_ , got him back. Keith even hovers at the Lion's maw when it opens, and Allura goes to pass him with Shiro secure in her arms.

"Keep him safe," Keith says, and Allura nods back at him. They both know she will; she always has, no matter what it took. Even if she didn't do a good enough job, and...

It's a relief to be alone in the Blue Lion's cockpit, as she gets into her pilot seat and cradles Shiro in her lap, letting herself grow a bit larger to manage it. She attunes, grounds herself in his breathing as she waits for everyone else to get seated in their Lions (Coran will likely go with Lance, and Romelle and Krolia with Keith) before grasping at her controls and shifting her Lion back into gear.

Despite everything, she can breathe easy. She exchanged one home for another, and she's never made a better bargain.

* * *

Shiro sleeps through the first three days they spend on the closest inhabited planet, something called Y'luriel of the Riel System of Exploding Stars. The exploding stars are very far away, but happen on an almost nightly basis, big and bright enough the locals treat it like a firework show when they stop in their ordinary business. The Y'luriels have wings made of crystallized tissues and antenna sprouting from their head, and Hunk says they resemble something like butterflies, only human sized. Their monarch welcomes the Paladins and treats them with hospitality, and Allura is thankful she has little negotiating to do.

The Y'luriels have no cryopods, and they don't know how their medicine might affect a human's system, so the team simply lets Shiro rest and takes shifts watching over him all day and night cycle long. Allura and Coran take the most—Alteans need less sleep than Earthlings, Allura had discovered—but also because she feels like she has to be ready at any moment. In case his body starts failing and he needs more of her alchemy, of her quintessence, to make it through. In case he wakes up. She wants _to be there._

"I remember when my _j'arlah_ was injured," says a voice behind her, and Allura turns from where she's sitting beside a sleeping Shiro, hours into Y'luriel's night cycle to see Krolia walking towards her. It must be her shift soon, but Allura doesn't feel like leaving.

"Jarlah?" Allura repeats. It must be Galran.

"Spouse," Krolia elaborates. "Partner. Star-twin. Keith says on earth his father would have been called my husband."

Allura's brain catches up, and then she catches the implication and fights down a blush. "Oh. Shiro isn't my—he's my friend."

Krolia looks amused as she sits next to Allura. "I'm aware. But it's clear how much you care for him. My son does too, in a different way. Shiro raised him. They have a history." Krolia turns eyes Allura didn't know could be kind on her. "So, what is your history with the Black Paladin?"

"You have heard the legend of Voltron?"

"I heard through the Blade that you had awoken after 10,000 years of slumber, with the paladins of Voltron by your side. Keith has largely filled in the rest, but of course... he does not know everything. Only that you were nearly as devastated as he was, when his brother went missing after Zarkon fell the first time."

Allura chuckles weakly. "Oh, I was as devastated. Just better at hiding it. I had a coalition to run..." she thinks of how _angry_ Keith had been, when she'd called off the official search for Shiro, directing sources away from it slowly one by one. He hadn't spoken to her for days. Her own eyes burn, when she thinks, knows now, just how long Shiro was gone for. How much she'd missed him, how much he'd needed her and she hadn't even known, even if she'd done what she could. "I couldn't let him have died in vain," she whispers.

"After Owen was injured," Krolia says, after a pause, "I knew I couldn't stay on earth any longer. The mission, his and Keith's safety, they had to come first. I knew I would most likely never see him again, but—Keith lost him while I was gone, years ago." Krolia stands, looking at the clock in the corner—so it is time for her shift—but she gives Allura a small smile. "Cherish having your beloved back, while you can."

Allura's so flabbergasted she can barely process Krolia walking away and leaving her alone again with Shiro, but she looks onto his handsome, peaceful face, and her heart picks up for the first time since Lotor broke it. Shiro needs time. To heal, to adjust, to wake up. She needs time too.

But she can't help but wonder. Did he know, before he disappeared? Did he know that she loved him?

* * *

They spend a whole movement, or week as Lance calls it, on Olkarion. It has become clear, in the four days it took them to leave the moon and reach Olkarion, that Shiro needs a more solid solution than rest. Normally the cryopods would do the trick, but of course they don't have them anymore, and nor any of the sacred Altean texts stored in the castle. She hopes that when they go to the Altean colony, perhaps better answers for who and how Shiro can live his life will arise, but it is a hope, and that has never felt like so much or so little.

For now, as Pidge and Hunk and Coran go to start building a new arm for the Black Paladin, and Keith and Lance handle things with Ryner, Allura busies herself with healing Shiro. He can stand and walk, fairly steadily. The first day he's truly awake he does almost nothing but eat. There will be time to talk, to help him process and see what happened to his clone's mind later. For now, the team is content to let him move forward at his own pace. But his energy is drained easily, his vision shaky and head aching, and Allura has never been able to stand seeing him suffer.

The first time it happened, it was largely a fluke, her hand on his chest and back to catch him when he stumbled leaving his room—she just happened to be closer than the others, his weight uneven with only one arm—when a rush of quintessence left her body and went to his, and he straightened slightly, stronger.

This is their fourth healing session together now, one per day, and Allura is still settling into it: the quietness of being in Shiro's room alone with him, his removal of his shirt so that her quintessence can flow more easily into him, the reality of having him, _him_ , here, of having him back _for good_ , finally sinking. He's quiet, and peaceful, during their early morning sessions. Always inquiring if she slept well, and she gives him the same courtesy, in an equally as teasing yet heartfelt manner.

"Believe me," he says this morning, now that they have a routine. They're sitting on his bed both facing the same direction, her kneeling behind him and her hands braced to touch his shoulders and pour a little of her quintessence into him. It feels so good to hear him _joke_ again. "'Rest' has been one of your easiest orders to follow."

She thinks of his refusal to leave her in the Galra ship, and her chest constricts. Of how gutted she'd felt when she'd thought he had disobeyed her orders so directly, by taking Lotor to the Kral Zera. "I'm sorry," she whispers, her hands resting on his shoulder blades. "I should have known he wasn't you."

Shiro turns to look at her. "Allura—"

Tears prick at her eyes as her voice breaks, and she knows she doesn't deserve to look at him. She doesn't deserve any of this. "I should have known you would never willingly leave me."

"Allura." His hand is warm as it cups her cheek, and lifts her gaze back up to his. "There was no way you could have known. Nobody did."

"I—"

"You've always done your best with all the information presented to you. That's enough. You've always done enough. You always _are_ enough."

She curses with a shaky smile, tears spilling over her cheeks because isn't she supposed to be the one caring and comforting him, in these sessions, when he brushes her tears away with his thumb, over her markings. Some of her guilt ebbs away under his gentle touch, and she places her hand over his, cradling it to her cheek. How does he always know what to say? "Thank you, Shiro."

"Anytime, princess."

He waits until she's ready before he draws away, and Allura is glad when he can no longer see his face and she has something else to concentrate on, then the hammering of her heart in her chest as she pours some of her quintessence into him, the few scars his new body has glowing faintly. It is too soon for this revival, but she cannot deny it, not when she learned the feeling so intricately in the hole carved out by his absence.

But does he know, she wonders? Does he know she loves him still?

* * *

Their next stop after they get a ship from the Olkari is the Altean colony, and Allura has hardly ever felt more nervous. She never thought she would have a people to be concerned with again, a people to rule. They'll need a new planet. Protection, especially now that news of Lotor's defeat and disappearance is starting to spread and more and more Galra are fighting amongst themselves or allying with the Fire of Purification. There is so much to do, and yet she can only stand here and try to breathe, not staring at the luminescent screens she has pulled up. It's not the castle tech, but it'll have to do for now.

"Princess?" Shiro has left his seat in the chair in front of her, and is walking over to her. Her hands are shaking and his eyes are soft, his brow slightly pinched with worry. The rest of the paladins had retired hours ago to explore other parts of their temporary home, or to help Coran clean. "Is everything alright?"

"I—" She wants to say yes, but knows it would be a lie, an ever since Lotor—there's a bitter taste in her throat—she can't bring herself to say lies, much less ones she believes in. "I don't know," she admits. Her screens fall away.

"You're worried about your people."

"I thought they were gone... and to owe it to _Lotor_ —" A snarl rises.

Shiro places a hand on her shoulder, his new one, white and faintly blue; Altean, and precisely her problem right now. "Lotor saved them, but for his own gain. He never loved them. You'll make a great queen, Allura."

"If they accept me," she mumbles, even as her lips twitch upwards.

"They'll come to see you as I do."

She looks back up at him. "Which is?"

"Someone I would follow to the ends of the universe with." Allura manages a real smile at him, but the crease in his brow only deepens. "I'm sorry, I was gone so long. I can't imagine what that was like. Having to hold the team together, and having to coordinate everything with the coalition and the Blade while being a brand new paladin on top of it, I—and then he... he hurt you."

"Lotor?"

"He hurt you," Shiro repeats, his voice turning soft, and broken, "while wearing my face. He used the Black Bayard on you. He could have _killed_ you, and—"

The revelation that Shiro had gotten his clone's (whom the team had decided to name Kuron for the sake of simplicity in discussion) memories had been a startling one. The memories weren't the same as Shiro having lived through the experiences. They were fuzzy and second hand at best, but Allura could only imagine the toll it had taken on him, receiving months of memories that weren't yours and full of distress.

"Your betrayal hurt more than Lotor's, I will admit," Allura said just as softly, stepping closer to him. "But then I realized that he was most likely using you, somehow, and..."

 _You didn't put us in this situation,_ Lance had said, on a dark and freezing bridge. _It was_ Shiro _who went rogue and released the virus in the castle._

She hadn't believed it then— _No. This is_ my _fault_ —and she didn't believe it now.

Allura's eyes trace her Black Paladin's face and appreciate the softness underneath the weary layers, of all the goodness that remains. "You would never hurt me, Shiro. And I would be honoured to face my people, with you by my side."

His eyes crinkle, even if he can't manage a whole smile. "Always, Princess."

Shiro is the first to stand by her side once her ceremony is conducted and her people cheer for their new queen.

* * *

Somewhere along the way, on the trip back to Earth, Allura lets herself get used to him again. They get up in the mornings and she goes to his room and knocks, often finding him already awake, before they have their healing session. Once they're finished, they go to the Olkari ship's bridge for a mug of hot, liquified nunvil that's apparently similar to something on Earth called coffee, and go through their schedule for the day. Conferencing with the Blade and the Rebellion, separately and then together, to stay updated on battling the Fire of Purification and how it's spreading: "Territory by territory," Kolivan reports, "but none unexpectedly so. The rest are still scattered."

Pidge has usually meandered towards the bridge another hour before everyone else gets up, techpad in hand to catch a glimpse of her brother and the other rebellion leaders, before she goes to drag the others out of bed with increasingly creative pranks or ideas. It feels good to see her being a kid again, checking in and seeing how Shiro's new arm is working for him; she seems proud and elevated of some of her guilt, for having built the kill-switch counter in case of a virus, and Allura is glad. She knows she herself can feel her youth and age more than ever these days; she can scarcely imagine how it must be for the others.

Allura gets used to bumping shoulders with Shiro, of coordinating together and standing on the bridge togethr, of opening and closing her day with him, of checking in with the Paladins at meal times and checking over the Lions every other day or so. The beasts are still recharging, but Allura never tires of seeing a glimmer of light in Black's eyes shine whenever Shiro walks by. They haven't had to be used in battle, but she knows the paladins and their Lions will be. Whether Blue will want her or Lance, and Red Keith or Lance, is still up in the air, but she knows that Shiro is back in Black where he belongs.

And back with her, the thought simmering like a warm sip of nunvil in her chest as she lets herself find comfort in its returning steadiness.

Until, of course, he isn't.

* * *

 **a/n:** hey guys, in the wake of season seven and the new interview that dropped today i just really wanted to get some shallura goodness off my chest. this segment of post-s6, s7 speculation may have one more chapter, or two. just depends on how long things get or how much i end up exploring, but i know i want to get to certain things (sendak, earth, exploring the possibility of co-piloting black) and a few other things, so stay tuned. hope you guys enjoyed this, i would love to hear your thoughts (if the healing sessions reminded anyone else of kataang from atla, that's where the inspiration came from ;))


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